Bingo!

Dana Flatekval

“This is my granddaughter Dana, she’s an A student.” My grandma used to say these words to everyone we met at Bingo ever since I could remember. Since my mom and dad worked the same hours and weren’t able to watch me, my grandma and my Aunt Jean watched me from the time I was very little. My grandma’s life was Bingo. Even though she was Jewish, she would go to all the churches. Wherever there was Bingo, there was my grandma, my Aunt Jean and I.

We always frequented this particular Bingo hall, the Boys and Girls Club of Union. After my mom dropped me off at my grandma’s house we would begin the Bingo ritual. The ritual took what felt like hours.

First, we’d begin making the food to bring along with us because my grandma always said the food at the Bingo hall was a waste of money and it took too long to get. I’d get all the ingredients out and sit down in the huge, yellow kitchen chairs. She’d sit next to me and let me cut the onion rolls. She was the first person to teach me how to use a knife. Then came the tasty part, the Jewish salami. The aroma was intense and as soon as it touched the onion roll I could taste it. It smelled so garlicky and used to make my breath smell for hours. I got to put the salami onto the rolls and add mustard on my grandma’s sandwich which I always thought was gross. The mustard oozed out and was too spicy; it took away from the garlicky flavor of the salami. Then dessert was next. My grandma always chose the peppermint patties, and I chose the chocolate chip cookies which were my favorite. She always packed extra patties because she knew I would get hungry during the games. I grabbed three sodas, and put them in their “I love Bingo” bag.

Next, my Aunt Jean would take a walk with me to Union Center which was a couple of blocks up from their house while my grandma got ready. There we would go to McCrory’s, the five and dime store. I would take my Aunt up and down the isles and grab coloring books, construction paper, crayons and Barbie dolls. These things would keep me busy for the three hours we were at Bingo. On our way back, we always stopped at Magic Fountain, an ice-cream shop close to the house. My Aunt Jean would tell me to keep it a secret from my grandma because she didn’t want her to know she spent money. I always thought that was odd, since my grandma sometimes said the same thing to me. I would choose the cookies and cream on a sugar cone with rainbow sprinkles. My Aunt Jean would get the plain vanilla ice cream and would never finish it. That always bothered me. We’d walk back and be greeted by my grandma in the kitchen making chopped liver or matzo brei for later that night. I never liked any of these foods, but the aroma always sticks out in my mind. She would break the matzo up and wet it. The she would mix it with egg. She would melt the butter and put it into a frying pan and like scrambled eggs she would smush it together. I can still see her chopping the liver in the big wooden bowl. She would take chicken livers (and only chicken livers, because they were they had the best consistency) and chop them. Then she would fry onions in oil. The liver would be put in and the putrid smell would fill the kitchen.

It would be one o’clock when everyone was finished getting ready and preparing. We’d pile into my grandma’s car with our bags of food and be on our way. The Boys and Girls Club was only about 10 minutes away, but I would still have to sit through what seemed like an agonizing hour of Yiddish music. Something I wouldn’t wish happen to anyone, even my worst enemy. It was shrill and had no beat to it. The songs sounded like a bunch of screaming women.

We’d park in the big lot across from the Boys and Girls Club because everyone knows the side lot gets flooded. We’d be one of the first ones in there for a few reasons. One, you have to get the good table. What’s a good table? It’s right by the caller, right by the bathroom and right in front of the Bingo number board. Second, you don’t want to sit in the smoking section. I was always surprised that as much as these old ladies smoked they lived to be a hundred and still continued to go to Bingo.

We would get our usual seat—by the caller, by the bathroom and away from the smokers. We would unload our food and my grandma would begin setting up her “lucky” memorabilia. There were trolls with red hair, green hair, blue eyes and curly hair. There were lucky pennies; lucky pictures of me, lucky everything! It was incredible, but the one thing my grandma always said gave her luck out of all of those things was me. When that was over, it was time to eat. The taste of the garlicky sandwich mixed with a hint of onion was amazing and with a sour pickle it hit the spot. I would start on my first peppermint patty and knew that there would be more to come.

After a half-hour, the avid Bingo players would start to arrive, stopping by our table first. My grandma would say, “This is my precious shayna maidel (pretty girl). She’s the best granddaughter in the world.” I would always get red in the face, but on the inside I loved it. The ladies that smelled of mothballs and BenGay, would say that I was gorgeous and should star in commercials. That always brought a smile to my face.

The biggest job of mine was next—picking out the boards. For the first nine years of my Bingo experiences I was to pick out the Bingo boards. Later they changed the rules and children under 18 were no longer allowed in Bingo halls and boards became obsolete and were replaced with “specials” which prevented the elderly from cheating. (Doesn’t that seem like an oxymoron?) I would wander up to the line and wait with my Aunt Jean. I was my grandma’s board getter, my Aunt liked to do it on her own. I sorted and sifted through the thousands of boards that lay on large wooden tables. I was to get the boards that had certain numbers: 8 and 9 for my mom’s birthday, 25 for my mom and dad’s anniversary, 13 for my grandma’s lucky number and 11 and 14 for my birthday. This was the most important job because it was believed that the right numbers in the right places could win you the Bingo. The best places to have your “lucky” numbers were in the upper corners, lower corners and diagonally so that it would be easier to win certain games.

The caller would go up to the Bingo booth and ask for someone to test the balls. I don’t think this ever worked because people were still able to cheat. My grandma once told me that someone paid the caller to call all her numbers and won almost every game. After that supposed incident the boards were changed to “specials.” Then the sound of the balls would pop into my ears and I would begin to color or play with my dolls.

During the games I would walk up and down the aisles and help the ladies get their coffee, tea or buttered rolls. I was their little waitress and they loved it because they didn’t have to pay me. Sometimes I would even get slipped an occasional quarter or two. Then, I would go right back and sit next to my grandma and help her keep an eye on her boards so that she didn’t miss a number.

Bingo lovers have odd rituals. My grandma never had any weird Bingo habits, but most of the other ladies did. When B11 was called, the caller would say chicken legs and when O66 was called some ladies would hoot and holler. I always thought that was odd and funny.

The games seemed to drag on forever and the thick smoke from the smokers would fill the room with a grey film. The first game was always a regular Bingo Anyway, then followed the Letter “T’, the postage stamp, the Letter “X”, the full board and the 50/50 specials which were games that were larger cash prizes and harder to win.

The ladies would get really antsy especially if they hadn’t won in a while. When the caller called too fast they would yell, “Change the caller! Slow down.” Some of them got mean and nasty. When a certain amount of numbers were called or a certain amount of numbers under a particular letter were called the ladies would start whispering. By then you knew someone “had it.” It was hysterical.

The funniest part of the whole Bingo experience was when either my Aunt of grandma were “sitting.” In Bingo “sitting” means that you are waiting for one number (and only one number) to win. But, my grandma and Aunt would bicker back and forth, sometimes using the word asshole saying “Betty I am sitting for B2, 066 and I29.” Then my grandma would say “You asshole, sitting means only one number. I am waiting for B14.”

My grandma never really got bothered by not winning. It was always just the act of playing. She won occasionally even though she pretty much went everyday. But, when she won, you knew it and could hear it. The worst thing for Bingo players is winning with multiple people. Once my grandma won a game and the prize was allotted for $75.00. There were so many winners that by the time they counted all of them my grandma only received $2.00.

By the last game, if my grandma or Aunt Jean hadn’t won, they became really anxious. They would have me pack all of the “lucky” memorabilia up, put all of the colored Bingo markers away, put my toys away and start to get ready to leave. By the last game pretty much everyone was standing up and the rush of the elderly would begin. They looked like herded cattle.

My Aunt Jean would always run to the bathroom before we’d leave and my grandma and I would wait. Then when everyone was gone, we’d get back into the car.

The ride home was filled with the chatter of “I can’t believe that number wasn’t called,” “B12 was called so many times” and “I was sitting four times, can you believe it?” Back at the house we would gather all the bags; I would be carrying the majority and plop them onto the table.

My Aunt Jean was always the clean freak so she would put all the dishes away while my grandma and I would settle in front of the television. The Bingo day was not over. We would put on ABC and be just in time for General Hospital -the favorite soap opera of both my Aunt and grandma. We would find out who was sleeping with whom and who turned to the devil. It was amazing to watch when I was eight because I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was I wasn’t allowed to tell my mom that grandma let me watch that show.

After General Hospital was over my grandma would go into the kitchen and make herself an iced coffee. She had this really unique method of making it. It was always more ice cream than coffee. I would follow her and she would put two scoops of coffee ice cream into a tiny green dish. Then quietly she would tell me not to let Aunt Jean know that I was having ice cream. (That was the second time for ice cream in one day, but I never said no.)

An hour before my mom and dad were to come home, my grandma would let me play “beauty parlor.” This always turned out interesting and so did my grandma’s hair and nails. She had these huge yellow swivel chairs that looked like huge banana waffles. She would sit in one and I would take her pick and fluff her hair and spray “lacquer” as she called it into her wavy reddish hair. I always made her look like a troll no matter what. When I was finished she would tell me to get her purse and she would give me a tip. (A whole $5 bill—that is a lot to a little kid.)

After that traumatizing ordeal for my grandma, my mom arrived to pick me up. Its funny most kids want to go home after a long day at their grandparent’s house, but I wanted to stay there forever. My mom would sit with my grandma and chat, and then gather some chop liver and hurry me to the car so we could get home.

The way home would usually consist of me rambling on about what we did, how my grandma called my Aunt an asshole at some point in the day and how funny the ladies were at Bingo. I never once got bored of going to Bingo—there was always something exciting going on.

Now that I am grown up I learned something. Bingo was not just about winning. It was somewhere for the ladies to go when they were bored or had extra Social Security money left from their checks. But, to me it was something more. It made my grandma’s relationship with me stronger.

My grandma has recently passed away and although I know she is watching over me going to Bingo still gives me a calming feeling when I miss her. I know now that I will always be an avid Bingo player even if I never win because it brings me closer to the memory of my grandma.