It's Time for BINGO

Is THERE a party with a game that BINGO is its name-o? (It sounds better if you sing it.) I ask because in Italy that party is a New Year's Eve party. I really don't think I found room for it in Michigan between my 9pm dinner and the beach fire, but I've been away so long maybe I've just forgotten.

In any case, while my fellow Americans are joining Dick Clark's replacement in Times Square my fellow Italians (young, old, cool, dorky, educated and uneducated) will be emotionally putting little chips on little cards to win little prizes.

The only year I really liked the game was in 2021 when I taught a 91-year old lady in the mountains how to play her first game. In the beginning she was about as interested as I was. She was grumpy and groaned and found it senseless.  She'd only gone to school until the second grade and I wasn't sure she knew her numbers past 20, so I sat by her and played two cards, saying one was hers.

After her daughter got Bingo and took the first prize, Maria's mood lightened a little. I decided to deliberately miss a number on what we called 'her' card and was happy when a wrinkled finger silently showed up with a light tap. I understood no one was to know she was playing and I kept her secret safe. She didn't win a game that night, but if she had I wonder which of we two'd have yelled BINGO.

Now Maria lives in a nursing home. I went to see her yesterday for her 95th birthday. She's as sharp as ever and fortunately her fingers don't seem any more wrinkled. I imagine they'll play Bingo tonight; what better place than a nursing home to put little chips on little cards to win little prizes. I'm sure Maria's looking forward to it as much as I am. From one grumpy friend who finds it senseless to another, good luck Maria and Happy New Year.