The Power of Bingo

My grandmother and Aunt Becky loved Bingo. We lived in Alpharetta, and as often as they could, they drove to Toco Hills to play Bingo in a huge smoke-filled shopping center space. For those of you that are not southern, the distance between Alpharetta and Toco Hills is what we call a “fer piece”. Going to play Bingo was like going to town. Even my grandmother would put on makeup and get her “hair-done”. Before they left on their hour long journey, Becky and Mama Ruby would kiss me and ask me to be a good boy. If I close my eyes and get real quiet, I can still smell their perfume and feel my aunt’s pancake makeup on my face.
My Aunt Becky had taken to collecting lucky charms, probably inspired by any number of blue-haired ladies whom juggled more Bingo cards than their attention span could manage. I remember once, my aunt was on a desperate hunt for a rabbit’s foot. She finally managed to acquire one on a key-chain (probably a gift from a fellow Bingo junkie). Many times she sent me out into the yard to look for four-leaf clovers (which she offered a quarter a piece for). For every day that I searched for one I found (at the most) one. It was not the money that inspired me, but the elation in her face as I twirled the tiny green shamrock between my fingers in front of her.
Time passed quickly and I grew into a big child. My grandmother had passed away, but my Aunt Becky still liked to get out and play Bingo, two or three times a year. Once when I was eighteen or so, I needed to borrow my aunt’s car for a date. Unfortunately for me, my date was on a Bingo night. Becky assured me that if we (my Aunt Sara, my girlfriend Pam, and me), went to Bingo that she would let me use her car the following day. Being the selfish-ass that I was (and sometimes am now), I was furious that she did not forsake her Bingo for my date. Reluctantly I dragged Pam on a Bingo date with my family. I made no qualms about how I felt and managed to give off a truck load of bad-vibes before we reached Toco Hills.
I had five dollars to my name and I bought five Bingo cards at a dollar a piece. I rubbed my eyes and cast down judgment on a hundred senior citizens filling the shopping center hall.

“God damn it, I should be at the movies!”
“I could be eating Chinese food now!”
“We could be at Pam’s house, piled up in front of the TV, trying to offend God!”

My thoughts were loud inside my head. Then something happened that I did not anticipate. I won… I won a freakin’ fifty dollar Bingo game. Fifty-dollars! It might as well been five hundred dollars to me at the time.
“Oh my GOD !”
“I can buy Pam a birthday present!”
“We can go out tomorrow!”
“Fucking WHOOP TEE DOO”

The rest of the evening I was on cloud nine. On the way home that night, I managed to find Wolfman Jack on a late night oldies show, and he kept us company all the way to Alpharetta. My aunt did not win any money that night but she did have a small victory that she kept to herself. Her favorite nephew had made an ass of himself and it was apparent to everyone in the car (even himself). A good nephew would have taken his aunt to play Bingo and would have been glad to do it. I kicked and screamed all they way and was fifty dollars richer for my troubles. As we drove through the night on our way out of town, I could see the smallest of smiles on her face. It was the smile of victory. She knew the power of Bingo.