I’ve noticed since moving into my condo, how helpful and healing the times are when I’ve gathered with some of my neighbors to play our weekly Mexican Train game. The level of endorphins expands exponentially as we share our foibles and age-related behaviors.
Our group of six gather at our most accessible (no cats, bigger table, etc.) home to play. Our hostess, “Carrie,” is a lovely octogenarian who has suffered several strokes. She needs a little help to make sure she can find all her dominoes which are sometimes hidden in her blind spot. She and I have the same quirky sense of humor, so we often get into laughing jags when something is said or done which particularly hits our funny bones. For instance, one day she repeatedly commented that she didn’t know what to do with her starter tile. So, I innocently remarked, “Start?” It just hit us funny. You had to be there.
Another member, “Nancy,” who is in her mid-eighties, is hampered by glaucoma in one eye and macular in the other. As if the shots were not enough to handle, the effect of the condition is that the only colors she can decipher on the dominoes are orange and yellow. If you’re at all familiar with the game, you’re aware that each set of dots has its own color. Most of the ladies are “color people,” so we take special efforts to include the information that the unseen tile at the end is a “purple nine,” not just the color. Sometimes we include the shape of the dot configuration, such as an “H” for seven or a “fat green square” for eight. This can lead to confusion and more than an occasional giggle.
“Ulrika,” our charming German-born native with a lovely accent, has offered herself as assistant to those ladies disadvantaged to play by some condition. She usually sits at the end of the table between “Nancy” and “Katrina,” another octogenarian. Katrina has COPD and besides this condition sometimes has difficulty remembering to play her oddballs (tiles that don’t fit into the train) first before she plays on her train. Ulrika is there to aid these ladies set up their trains, if needed, and give them suggestions on play. These helpful suggestions are not always welcome as Nancy sometimes rolls her eyes and states her lack of need, which is frequently followed soon after with a request for help again.
Ulrika’s main family are her two beloved cats, for whom she focuses most of her affection and care. This includes staying up late to take them for walks when other residents’ dogs are not about, which causes a disruption of her sleep. If our game day happens to follow these midnight walks, it may result in some confusion on Ulrika’s part. Often, she will believe she’s had her turn after helping one of her students to take their turn.
“Shelly” is an old hand at playing the game, formerly with more serious-minded folks who played for points. She is fairly patient with all our interruptions and assistance given. Since she was the one who originally taught us the game, Shelly is eager to aid her lesser-skilled neighbors and is willing to assist us to recall the rules of the game.
My own contribution to the craziness of our playing efforts is to add my occasional slips into dyslexia by beginning to proceed in a counterclockwise manner. This greatly complicates our progress, while I try to take over someone else’s turn. I have also learned to announce, “I am now moving my neighbor’s tile for her,” while I assist the player to my right in reaching her tile to the end of the train, so it is not mistaken for my turn.
All of us are forgetful and it takes very little to get us off track. The main way this shows itself is when we don’t remember whose turn it is. Whenever this happens or something similar, we often refer to a joke’s punch line regarding seniors, the rest of which we’ve forgotten, with “See you on the bus.” In other words, all of us are on the same bus headed toward eternity and we are experiencing the same losses and fumbles as we journey on. Why mourn over them? Misery loves company, so we fill our quotient of endorphins and enjoy the company of our fellow travelers.
God is so good to give us the power of laughter to lighten the load, soften the injury, and form strong alliances. See you on the bus.