Yes, “XDYR ROBingo” (Bingo event by friends of Robbie for Robbie) happened—in a magical sort of way.
Friends of Robbie came in full force—with their families in tow. The babies, whose births and first birthdays we celebrated, and the toddlers whom we used to carry, are now ladies and gentlemen, all taller than we are.
Not many of us are bingo enthusiasts. I, for one, pass by the bingo section in the three big malls in our neighborhood each malling day, but never really give it much thought or attention. If someone invited me to play the game, I’d probably say “No, thank you” and head to the nearest bookstore or coffee shop for a cup of tea.
Playing bingo for Robbie’s sake, however, is another story. I’d slave and sweat over the numbers and patterns, and sit through our emcee’s (I’d mention his name—every person in the advertising industry knows him—but it would be unfair to all the others who remain nameless) call outs, and recycled jokes, even if it killed me.
The organizing committee did a good—no, excellent—job in soliciting really valuable prizes and pledges: huge cash and some appliances. But they did even better in getting together old peers (friends and foes) in one venue to play good-old-bingo. They would have talked those who are abroad into flying in, given enough time.
Why bingo? Fundraising events are not the easiest and fastest to mount. And time is of the essence. The clock is ticking and if we needed to move, it had to be—now. All that was required was a venue, which we got through a benefactor; and prizes, which we got through more benefactors.
What about bingo players? Well, there are plenty of us—who are not necessarily players, but are willing to buy bingo tickets in lieu of a week's taxi ride, or dine-outs, or shopping, or movies; and spend an afternoon together, fiddling with numbered rectangular cards while chatting and eating and laughing and reminiscing the glory of our fevered and competitive youth.
DYR was big on that. We used to brainstorm on the most creative of parties that ended all parties. We could easily re-create one—for a cause.
And we did. One of us prepared a table of the yummiest spaghetti and sandwiches; some carted to the place bags and bags of ukay-ukay (slightly used items), donated by more benefactors; and some went around selling more bingo tickets and collecting loose change to add to the funds. Iced tea and other soft drinks flowed, again from more benefactors.
Aside from the bingo prizes, other goodies were raffled off in between games. And there were four special games—for additional sales. The patterns one had to form were X-D-Y-R (see diagrams). For me, these patterns were excruciating tests of IQ and concentration. My brain has the uncanny ability to shut off when my eyes glimpse numbers.
Finally, at 5 PM, when it was time to vacate the venue, we played the last game called ‘blackout.’ This was a no-brainer; no pattern to form or follow. To win, one had to have all the numbers in his card called out.
And guess who won? You won’t believe this—it’s like someone’s idea of a silly joke: I won. I really did—with two others, splitting the grand prize three ways.
Will I now play more bingo?
No, thank you. But for Robbie, or any XDYR, I will. I'd drop everything for one afternoon of friendship.
Photos by someone we fondly call KO; (above) XDYR family; (below) the Grand Prize winners
Not many of us are bingo enthusiasts. I, for one, pass by the bingo section in the three big malls in our neighborhood each malling day, but never really give it much thought or attention. If someone invited me to play the game, I’d probably say “No, thank you” and head to the nearest bookstore or coffee shop for a cup of tea.
Playing bingo for Robbie’s sake, however, is another story. I’d slave and sweat over the numbers and patterns, and sit through our emcee’s (I’d mention his name—every person in the advertising industry knows him—but it would be unfair to all the others who remain nameless) call outs, and recycled jokes, even if it killed me.
The organizing committee did a good—no, excellent—job in soliciting really valuable prizes and pledges: huge cash and some appliances. But they did even better in getting together old peers (friends and foes) in one venue to play good-old-bingo. They would have talked those who are abroad into flying in, given enough time.
Why bingo? Fundraising events are not the easiest and fastest to mount. And time is of the essence. The clock is ticking and if we needed to move, it had to be—now. All that was required was a venue, which we got through a benefactor; and prizes, which we got through more benefactors.
What about bingo players? Well, there are plenty of us—who are not necessarily players, but are willing to buy bingo tickets in lieu of a week's taxi ride, or dine-outs, or shopping, or movies; and spend an afternoon together, fiddling with numbered rectangular cards while chatting and eating and laughing and reminiscing the glory of our fevered and competitive youth.
DYR was big on that. We used to brainstorm on the most creative of parties that ended all parties. We could easily re-create one—for a cause.
And we did. One of us prepared a table of the yummiest spaghetti and sandwiches; some carted to the place bags and bags of ukay-ukay (slightly used items), donated by more benefactors; and some went around selling more bingo tickets and collecting loose change to add to the funds. Iced tea and other soft drinks flowed, again from more benefactors.
Aside from the bingo prizes, other goodies were raffled off in between games. And there were four special games—for additional sales. The patterns one had to form were X-D-Y-R (see diagrams). For me, these patterns were excruciating tests of IQ and concentration. My brain has the uncanny ability to shut off when my eyes glimpse numbers.
Finally, at 5 PM, when it was time to vacate the venue, we played the last game called ‘blackout.’ This was a no-brainer; no pattern to form or follow. To win, one had to have all the numbers in his card called out.
And guess who won? You won’t believe this—it’s like someone’s idea of a silly joke: I won. I really did—with two others, splitting the grand prize three ways.
Will I now play more bingo?
No, thank you. But for Robbie, or any XDYR, I will. I'd drop everything for one afternoon of friendship.
Photos by someone we fondly call KO; (above) XDYR family; (below) the Grand Prize winners
2 comments:
ayna!ayna!fuerte!tsk,tsk,tsk.
Sika manen Biddak!
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