Raising money for a charity isn’t easy, but it can have its funny moments.

Part of our fundraising effort for our synagogue, Temple Israel of London, Ontario, was running a bingo night at the “Pot o’ Gold” at 1154 Hamilton Rd in London Ontario. Looks like it’s no longer there but in its heyday it was “the” Bingo Hall in London. Bingo every night, twice a night. Temple Israel was given the Wednesday night slot from 7pm to 10pm.

The volunteers were usually there from 6:30pm until 10:30pm doing the set-up before and the clean-up afterwards. In those days people were allowed to smoke in the bingo hall during the games. We were all non-smokers but we suffered through as best we could. I remember getting home afterwards and literally undressing in the garage because my clothes smelled so much and walking naked up to the bedroom and straight into the shower. All of us did the same routine. The joke was that we would likely die of lung cancer before we raised enough money to build a Temple.

Bingo players were men & women of all shapes and sizes. Based on the clientele, I nicknamed the bingo hall, the “Tub o’ Lard”. They would play 6 or more cards at the same time while smoking, eating poutine and chatting with their neighbours. Amazing.

During the interval between games the Bingo staff would walk up and down selling snacks to these over-sized behemoths. Some of our volunteers were physicians and they would take bets on who would need CPR that night.

Many of the players brought their good luck charms and pictures of their children and grandchildren, which were laid out ceremoniously around their space. Some had little Star Wars characters and pictures of Yoda. At least we thought that was what we were looking at. We were afraid to ask in case it was a picture of their grandson.

The evening session would begin with the announcement that “Tonight’s game is sponsored by the Temple Of Israel”. We could never get that corrected.

Our job was to sell the bingo cards and an instant win Bonanza ticket. We wore pouches and carried the tickets in our pouch which hung low on our bodies. I remember squeezing in-between two over-sized players’ chairs during a game and feeling the backs of their chairs squeezing into my pouch.  I said “Cor’ dear me” as I exhaled after getting through, “I think I’ve squashed my Bonanzas.”. No one even acknowledged my humour, they were so engrossed in the game.

One night that sticks out most in my mind was a night on what was, at that time, one of the hottest July days in London ever. Temperature had climbed to 35c deg. We had just come back from Israel and this night was hotter and drier than we had experienced in Israel. It was still very hot at 6:30pm, but was bearable because of the low humidity. However, the air-conditioning wasn’t working in the hall. Nevertheless, by 7pm the hall was filled, adding to the heat. Some of our volunteers had not shown up and so we were extra busy.

The first game started. It was busy, but we were managing. I was running around selling Bonanzas when I was stopped by a player who pointed me towards another player. I looked and saw that the player, a young girl in her late 20’s, had fainted and was almost falling off her seat. I ran over and straightened her up and that was when I noticed that the player across the table, who was her aunt, was not only playing her own cards but the also the cards of the girl who had fainted. I didn’t know what to do so I went over to the bingo caller who, regardless of the state of the fainting lady, was steadily calling out the numbers. “Under the B number 4 under the N number 39.”. I said to the caller, “Under the table there’s a player.”. He said “Oh, 67” completely ignoring me and continuing to call numbers.

So I went back to the comatose lady and since I wasn’t going to get any help from anyone I tipped her back in the chair and dragged her out to a back room where there was a couch and somehow managed to roll her on to the couch. As luck would have it, that night the one volunteer who was a doctor was late and finally showed up a few minutes after I had rolled the girl onto the couch. I grabbed him and told him what had happened and dragged him back to the room with the still comatose lady. He said, “What am I going to be able to do, I’m a pediatrician?”  I remember saying “Oh for goodness sake, smack her bum then, anything.”

Finally, she did come around and the doc asked her to take some water and rest for a while. She refused to rest and staggered back to her table where she discovered that while she was out her card had won the jackpot. This is hard to believe, but when the first session ended at 10pm she waited in line for the next session at 11pm. Unbelievable, but it does prove you can play bingo in your sleep and still win.

At the end of the night we cleaned up the mess; put the cards and waste into big Hefty bags and trotted them out through the back of the building to the side where the large dumpsters were. It was pitch black outside, but I could just make out the silhouette of the dumpster and with great accuracy I managed to throw my bags up and into the dumpster. This was quite a game. I went back and forth several times. Eventually, as my eyes became more accustomed to the light, I could see the silhouettes of the bags I had thrown. That’s odd, I thought, can the dumpster be that full. While I was pondering this another member came out behind me and deftly threw the bags into, not onto, the dumpster. That’s when I realized that the garbage container was not an open top dumpster, but a side door dumpster. All my garbage bags were sitting on the roof. How they got them down I don’t know and I never heard anything more about it. Oh well!