The Rural Voice, 1983-03, Page 51LUCKNOW
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OVER THE BACK FENCE
On the G-52!
by Tom Maplewood
Every community centre in Canada
allows it, this crime unpunished.
Housewives, mothers, sisters, girl-
friends, daughters and a few aunts and
nieces thrown in, all take to it with a
rare passion and are instant experts at
it. A few men do, too, but they are an
exception. It's not a man's sport, we
aren't tough enough.
Arriving early is a must and most
women do, though on any other occa-
sion they'd keep you waiting in the car
an hour. It's the "earlybird" games that
draw them, a chance to pick up an extra
five or ten bucks for starting ahead of
the crowd. I don't see the point of it,
they all arrive about the same time
anyway.
Bingo isn't played the way you and I
knew it (that is, unless you are one of
"them" and know the "new" ways).
Leave your handful of corn kernels at
home, they use "stampers" now. And if
you think it was tough watching for
numbers on two bingo cards at once,
get braced for scanning NINE and more
at a time.
I went out to one of these "games"
before Christmas to humour my mother
whose hobby it is. She can talk hours
about bingo, how she "got down to the
last number on the $500" and such, in a
way that makes you grip your seat till
the knuckles turn white. She has that
way about her, my mother.
Anyhow, she had me drive to the
PG. 52 THE RURAL VOICE, MARCH 1983
A Used
Volkswagen...
Don't settle
for Tess
AUTO RUND
Box 160 Main St. S.,
Exeter, Ont.
Phone 235-1100
Toll Free: 1-800-2657034
community centre, pushed me along
through the line and made me buy a
bunch of coloured bingo sheets and a
red stamper that cleaned out the last of
my beer money. I shuffled after her to a
pair of vacant chairs that faced each
other across one of five long tables that
ran the length of the place. We got just
nicely settled and she halfway through
explaining it all to me when the
announcer cleared his throat and
bawled, "Under the B, 19". I scrambled
up and down the rows of figures and
got about half through when he hol-
lered, "1-22". 1 continued the search for
both numbers, found one and dabbed at
it with the stamper. Not being used to
the thing, I was off a bit and nailed the
number above. 1 tried to erase it with
my finger. It smeared. "G-52!" I cursed
and looked about for the new number,
already forgetting the others. I conti-
nued like this awhile, never quite
catching up. But, as in most things, I
improved with practise. A sigh eased
out of me as a little of the tension
escaped. That very instant some ninny
two seats behind roared, "BINGO!" in a
voice like a drill sergeant. A cold shiver
skittered up my spine and stiffened the
hairs on my neck. I turned, cautious -
like, expecting to see some 300 Ib.
babe with a mean look in her eye. I was
shocked to see instead a tiny little lady
older than my mother. I collapsed back
into my seat with a shudder.
This is what bingo is. It is a wild,
tense, vicious sport. They can play like
this for five hourse straight. It's strictly
for the hardy, the rest would never
stand it. I noticed a lot were smokers.
can believe they need SOMETHING to
calm their nerves. It would be a great
place to sell booze. But can you
imagine what it would be like if you
ever got an acre of feisty women like
that liquored up and a bingo game
thrown in. They'd destroy the town. You
better believe it! Keep smilin. O
Tom Maplewood, originally from the
Ottawa Valley is a Stratford resident
and freelances as a writer of humour.
The name, Tom Maplewood is a pseu-
donym.