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This weekend I made the vow of ‘for richer, for poorer.’

No, I didn't get married. Friday night was bingo and Saturday was the carnival which are major fundraisers for my kid's school.

Bingo night is an evening of cliche Catholic fun.  Local celebrities call the numbers, beer flows aplenty and the hard core bingo ladies are there. You can spot them a mile away. They are the ones with 50 cards laid out in front of them, with a magic marker in each hand, growling at whoever dares to interrupt their laser like concentration. One year I called bingo with my witty remarks like, “I-29. I-29. I look like I am 29!”

Not appreciated.

The rich part of the vow is a mantra my children recite. “I’m gonna win, I’m gonna win, I’m gonna win.” God love ‘em, they really think they are going to be the big victor and walk away with $200. I always say that they will have to find some other way to beef up their retirement fund. 

Prince Christopher asked if I had ever won bingo. I told him that indeed I had. When I was 10. I won a coffee maker. Just what every child longs for - their very own Mr. Coffee. Whoop de do.

My oldest prince who has never won in all the years of playing, seriously since he was in kindergarten, actually won $50! After he triumphantly returned from the stage, waving the cash for all to see, I said to him, “Hey Tim. Can you loan me $50? And don’t say ya ain’t got it.” You can imagine his response. 

The funny part of playing is when someone calls out ‘BINGO’ everyone groans, moans and pounds the table in frustration. Then they remember that we should all be good sports when we are within 50 feet of the church and scattered applause breaks out. 

Now for the poorer part. Any bingo money that I may have won would have been spent at the carnival the next day. So many things to do and so many tickets to buy. The boys think that I am a machine that is the reverse of the ones at Dave and Busters. Instead of sucking in tickets to be counted for prizes, I just spit them out. 

I try not to do the math. It costs about a buck to put a fishing pole over a board so you can’t see it while volunteers put a prize on it for the kiddos to reel in. The thing is is that the toys, Happy Meal toys and the like, have been donated. By us. So we pay a dollar to get our own garage sale fodder back. 

By the end of the day my kids were tired and happy. And today the saintly women who chair this extravaganza will start planning next year’s.

Reign On!
Queen Linda