Dennis wrote regularly for “Bingo Bugle” and he had a regular column. He wrote this article just six months before he died. He mentioned how many empty chairs there come to be in the bingo halls. He paid tribute to his dear friend Michael Henson, who preceded him in death. As a lifelong journalist and staunch defender of the grammatical arts, Dennis did not approve of the term “passing away” and he’d much rather it be said that people DIE, which we all do. They don’t “kick the bucket,” “take a dirt nap,” “start pushing daisies,” et al. We all die.
BOB ON BINGO FOR June 2024 THE MAN WHOISN'T THERE ANYMORE Whether it is at Bingo or at a favorite restaurant or even at church, as we grow older each week we see more and more empty chairs. And, folks, it isn't because our friends have “passed away.” THEY DIED. When I first started doing radio news (in 1965) people DIED. No one passed away back then. Ieven had a journalism professor at Indiana University who would go into a rage if any student wrote that a person had “passed away.” He then made a simple speech: “They don't pass away, go to their great reward, tear the veil, breathe their last breath, buy the farm,go to a better place, shuffle off this mortal coil, cash in their chips, cross the River Styx.....the simply DIE.” He would always add: “As journalists, it is not our job to comfort the survivors with cushy words...we are here to report and people simply DIE.” Obviously, I have never forgotten his instructions. I still cringe when my local radio stations say that someone has “passed away.” I have given the manager clear instructions that when I die, his listeners should be told that I DIED. I didn't “pass away.” Ye Gods, I hate that phrase. OK, lecture over. I bring all this up because I want to pay tribute to a former roommate of mine,in Las Vegas. His name was Michael. He not only was a constant companion of mine at Bingo, he was the one who stood by me in the months after my open-heart surgery. In many ways he saved my life. We were seen together so often that many people thought we were boyfriends...an easy assumption since both of us were gay.....but we were simply roommates. Six month after my surgery I was finally on the mend. Michael and I began a performance group and recreated Old Time Radio shows for nursing homes. It was great fun,then, one day Michael died. Simple as that. He died. It was then that I moved back to my hometown in Indiana and,last month, into a nine-story senior highrise apartment building. My window (on the8th floor) has a wonderful view of my hometown. I can even see the old school where I first played Bingo in 1957. The other day I took some photos from my window. I thought out loud: “Ah, I ought to send some of these to Michael....nope....can't do that.” But I have no doubt thatMichael has been watching me...and he has seen all of that before.There are so many good friends whose chairs are now empty at Bingo.Take the next 30 seconds to quietly think about them...and what they brought into our lives. The 30 seconds starts NOW. Nexttime: “Your Next Ball is in the Monitor.” E-mail me at bingo@earthlink.net (mailto:bingo@earthlink.net).