My Bingo Attitude
“Never, never, never, never give up.”
…Winston Churchill
When it comes to Bingo, Mr. Churchill and I have a lot in common. No, no, the fat old guy never played Bingo to my knowledge. What I’m referring to is his attitude. He was determined to save England during World War II. I’m determined to get on a winning streak at Bingo if I live long enough. I am frustrated at losing game after game, but I refuse to give up. I love Bingo—the players, the callers, the workers. I’ve been a regular player since the 1970s and if I could recoup the money I’ve spent playing Bingo, I’d probably have enough to pay off our national debt. On the other hand, as the commercial on TV says, some things are priceless. If I played just to win money, I would have quit years ago.
I started playing when I was a young military wife overseas. The base sponsored games and I attended with my girl friends. It was a relatively cheap night out and it took my mind off my homesickness for a few hours.
After I returned home to the States, I played because I was hooked on the game and my husband’s Aunt Betty was a caller at the local Bingo parlor. After the laws changed in my state, and all Bingos had to be charitable ones, Aunt Betty retired from calling. I started playing Bingo at many different places for different reasons. I chose one spot because it was a morning game and I liked playing during the day. Another place I picked because of the good food it offered. A third favorite spot was because of the nice people who managed it and the other players who I met there. There were plenty of games to choose from and I frequented them all at one time or another. Still do.
But win a lot of money and holler, “Bingo!” often? No, unfortunately, I do not; my dry spells are legendary in my family. I mentioned in an earlier column that I was keeping track of my Bingos this year and would report back come December. Since January 1st, I have Bingoed only a few times. Am I ready to curse the caller and toss my daubers out the window of my car as I drive home? Not this old chick.
Every Bingo game I attend, I expect to win and win big. I think that right up through the last number called on the last game. My theory is that sooner or later, my day will come. I will find the gold at the end of the rainbow. I will be sitting somewhere at Bingo, need one number for a gazillion dollars and Bingo, I hear it called. It will be my turn to jump and jive and collect the money as others watch me enviously. It happens all the time in my dreams.
Until next month may Lady Luck blow you kisses as you dance out the door with dollars. Win big. And for other consistent losers out there among my readers, please email me at homemailbox@windstream.net. Misery loves company.
Author: N. L. Preston
Main
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