I started playing bingo at that fair seated beside my great grandmother. It was a special thing that she and I did together, just the two of us. Oh, I played my heart out with my friends all day and night during the fair, but there was always a bit of time carved out to sit with Viola.
Anyway, the St. Agnes Fair bingo died along with the people who ran it. Nobody wanted to keep it going. That's okay. We have our memories. Like how they gave you bingo chips in little paper french fry cups and most of the time the chips were dried beans.
Yesterday, it was interesting to note that the few of us from the old neighborhood were in the minority. We didn't recognize most of the folks milling around but we sure did enjoy finding each other and catching up on life.
