Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, February 23, 1993 TAG: 9302230177
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Kathleen Wilson
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
LOSERS BE CHARITABLE? YOU BET!
"C'mon! Do it! Do it! Do it!" demanded Paul Bridge, with one eye on his 10 of spades, the other staring down dealer George Palmerio across the table.George dealt him the two of hearts, then a queen.
No blackjack this time. Paul went bust. Goodbye chips.
"If he were a dealer in Vegas, he'd be wearing concrete shoes," teased Spuzzie Duckwall (and yes, that really is her name).
Last Saturday night, the Knights of Columbus hall in Cave Spring was filled with Vince Lombardis. Yes, to the crowd huddled around some 20 blackjack tables, winning wasn't everything.
It was the only thing.
This Mardi Gras evening - Lent begins Wednesday - is the annual fund-raiser for the Catholic Charities of Southwestern Virginia. Twenty dollars here bought you a baggie filled with $20,200 in funny money to wager as you try to beat the odds at the blackjack tables, sponsored by many local businesses.
"Next year I think we could get more blackjack tables in here," speculated Frances Bridge, president of the organization's board, because no one was using the dance floor.
At the end of the evening, you could turn in your chips for tickets used to raffle off a television, VCR, cordless phone, and CD player.
("We need another VCR like we need another navel," grumbled Paul, as Frances smacked him on the shoulder.")
Poor Allen Robinson lost 25 hands in a row, yet hit enough of a winning streak to amass a sizeable pile of blue chips. To his right sat his wife, Debbie, one of those women who looks nothing less than dazzling in bright red.
Paul's table - sponsored by Mahoy Electric - was definitely the happening place to be. Paul's luck, the crew speculated, was due to his status as the lone Catholic at this table.
Though the Knights of Columbus donated the hall and served as dealers, you didn't have to be Catholic to have a good time.
Sitting to Paul's left, Spuzzie was not only Presbyterian, but also a past president of Planned Parenthood. Most of all, though, she was a friend of Frances.
Anne Carpenter, who works for Catholic Charities, helped organize this event. As she greeted guests at the door, Pope John Paul II seemed to be giving his blessing from a painting on the wall behind her.
She caught me off guard when I thought she told me she'd put this event together, but that the Lord was really behind it.
"No, no! I said board. The board is really behind it."
While waiting for the prize drawing, Paul Bridge entertained those lingering at his table.
"Know what the difference is between the Buffalo Bills and a box of Wheaties? The Wheaties belong in a bowl."
Funnier were his "war stories" about World War II.
Paul pulled just about the best duty I've ever heard of. As a technician 5th grade ("That's lower than a snake's navel in a wagon rut."), Paul was stationed at - the Greenbriar?!
Back then, it was used as a bone- and skin-grafting center. While there Paul even played golf, once with an "old decrepit character" who turned out to be Gen. Eisenhower.
"He was supposed to be in England, but he wasn't," recalled Paul. "He just walked up and asked if he could join us. We didn't know who he was."
Not until the Cadillac staff car flanked by two jeeps filled with MPs arrived to take him away.
You'd think that after the Greenbriar, the military might have chosen a less cushy assignment for Paul when he was done there.
Nope.
When the military packed up and closed shop there, Paul was given an ambulance to drive to his next assignment.
In Coral Gables, Fla.
Paul wasn't the only one at the Catholic Charities' Mardi Gras night with a sensational story.
While whining about what it was like to rough it out in the Jefferson National Forest with the He-Man Woman-Haters a couple weeks ago, Margy Berry told me she could sympathize.
"I'm not much of a camper, either," she said.
She'd only been camping once.
In Nepal. In the Himalayas. At Mount Everest. One hundred miles, she says they hiked, as if that's an afternoon trek on the Appalachian Trail.
Her husband, Robert, set up the department of surgery at a mission hospital in Katmandu.
It's no surprise she remembers it well.
"It was in May. Mother's Day. And it snowed. A lot."
I had another adventure as I rambled up and down Brambleton, in search of the Knights of Columbus, but hopelessly lost.
But, get this. The next time you're lost, forget asking at gas stations.
Go right to the real authority.
Domino's Pizza.
Kate Hill at the Domino's on Brandon Avenue managed to hand toss a pizza crust, take a phone order and search for Harris Avenue for me on a giant map behind the counter all at once.
Yes, if you're lost, Domino's Pizza is sort of what Mission Control must be to the astronauts.
"Domino's Pizza Delivers" is the slogan.
That's because they always know where they're going.
THE PARTY LINE: If you'd like to invite Mingling columnist Kathleen Wilson to a party or social gathering, call her at 981-3434; when asked for the mailbox, dial MING (6464) and press the # key. Then leave a message as directed. Or write her in care of the Features Department, Roanoke Times & World-News, P.O. Box 2491, Roanoke, Va. 24010-2491.