Time for Tombola

Just like most years in Italy, I was once again invited to play Tombola (Bingo) on New Year's Eve. I'm not a lover of group games. Put me in front of a puzzle if you want me to stay up really late. But puzzles aren't made for ten people, so I said yes to Tombola.

Each player had two cards to control. In case you haven't played for awhile (like lucky me, until I moved to Italy) you no longer place chips on a little cardboard card with numbers. Now the card lives in a plastic case and has tiny plastic windows that you slide down when your number is called. If you ask me, it takes a bit of the fun out of it. Trying to keep the bingo chips or pennies (or in Italy, beans) from sliding onto the neighboring squares used to be the most exciting part of the game.   

But this year's most exciting part was Cristina, the girl who called the numbers. She drew each one with enthusiasm, asking for silence then waiting for shrieks. She seemed sincerely hopeful that every one of us would win every time.

There were big baskets filled with different-sized prizes wrapped in newspaper. Three, four and five numbers in the same line were all prize-worthy, but it wasn't until all of your windows were shut that you could yell TOMBOLA. As winners opened travel tissues and scented soaps wrapped in newspaper like they were opening a tiny blue box from Tiffany's, I mused about the magic of playing this silly game on the last day of the year; it's nothing more than connecting.

I've already decided I'm spending next New Year's Eve at my friend's nursing home calling numbers for Tombola. (See December 31, 2025 post.) If I can breathe the same energy into that sterile room of walkers and wheelchairs as our hostess breathed into me, they're going to have to add a new wing to the building because Maria and her other almost 100-year old friends are going to be around for awhile.

Thanks to Cristina's enthusiasm I was reminded that what you give is what you get. Therefore, I have no fear that trading my glittery gold nail polish for a package of plastic clothespins will leave me hanging out to dry. It can only mean that 2026 is sure to sparkle and shine....BINGO!