THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, September 30, 1994 TAG: 9409280101
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 1B EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: Pam Starr
LENGTH: Long : 117 lines
``WHATCHA BETTIN,' Ruthie?''
Ten pairs of eyes fixed on 88-year-old Ruth Hannaberry as she carefully looked over her cards.
``Um, a penny!'' she said, reaching into a cream cheese container full of coins and tossing one into the kitty.
The young woman sitting to Hannaberry's left registered her surprise.
``Ooh, but you have three queens showing!'' chided Agnes Parker, 22. ``OK, be conservative.''
This was no ordinary poker game. To start off, all of the players but one knew little about this most hallowed of card games. They were playing in Oakwood Nursing and Rehabilitation Center, a 60-bed nursing facility. The highest stake was 3 cents.
And the gamblers had young women from the Naval Air Federal Credit Union helping them with their hands. This was part of Oakwood's three-month-old grandparents' program, which pairs volunteers with residents one Wednesday evening a month.
Of course, what kind of help they received from marketing assistant Parker, loan analyst Cathe Waters, information specialist Christina Brumfield and quality assurance administrator Beth O'Toole is subjective.
``OK, we have a possible flush working here,'' the dealer and activity director, Tammy Ferguson, called in a booming voice after checking out resident Leona Strickler's hand. ``Three cents to stay in! Down and dirty!''
Waters, 25, looked at Ferguson blankly. She was sitting next to Belle Adams, who was having a miserable streak of bad cards.
``What does a possible flush mean?'' Waters asked, laughing. ``What's a flush? What's a full house?''
Ferguson patiently explained the terms.
``A possible flush means that she's getting cards in the same suit,'' she said, sounding like a seasoned Las Vegas dealer. ``A flush is when you have all your cards in the same suit. A full house is when you have, say, three kings and two 10s.''
Waters and Adams, 77, glanced at each other and the dwindling pile of pennies and nodded.
``OK, we fold,'' said Waters.
Hannaberry's three queens won that round, and the next hand dealt her three jacks. She squealed and nearly jumped out of her wheelchair.
``Whoo, we are hot tonight!'' yelled Parker, high-fiving Hannaberry.
Across the table from Hannaberry stood diminutive Frances Smith, the resident poker expert. Every apricot-colored hair on her head was teased into place and her lips shone with terracotta lipstick. Smith, 86, was dressed in a royal blue and white pantsuit, white beads hanging around her neck.
``I used to belong to a poker club,'' said Smith, never taking her eyes off the cards. ``We would have dinner and then play poker till 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning.''
All of the experience in the world, however, could not turn around Smith's cards. She scowled after each losing hand but, like a true poker fan, kept on playing. Finally, Smith hit the motherlode.
``I got four sixes!'' she yelled, reaching for the penny pile. ``It's about time!''
At the end of the game the residents chatted with their surrogate granddaughters awhile and thanked them for coming. Hannaberry said she looks forward to their visits every month even though she has too many grandchildren to count.
``Oh, we love them!'' she exclaimed. ``They're as sweet as can be. We have so much fun.''
Leona Strickler, who has no grandchildren, agreed.
``This is the first time I've played cards,'' she said. ``They're very nice. But I'm leaving soon and won't get to see them anymore.''
The volunteers all said that they probably get more enjoyment than the residents do from the grandparents' program. Parker has no grandparents and said that this program ``is like having one now.'' Waters has one grandmother in New Jersey that she doesn't get to see too often.
``I think this is more for my sake than theirs,'' she said. ``It is a lot of fun. . . . It gives them joy. Sometimes residents don't get a lot of visitors.''
Beth O'Toole's mother has been in a nursing home for 13 years, so she didn't hesitate when asked if she wanted to volunteer for the program.
``These are people just like our parents and grandparents,'' she said. ``It's so nice for them to have company. I feel like I'm helping because I know there's someone doing the same thing for my mom.''
ON SUNDAY, MEALS ON WHEELS will celebrate 20 years of service to elderly shut-ins with an anniversary party for its volunteers at the Ascension Catholic Church.
Meals on Wheels vice-president Lou Schroeder said it couldn't function without dedicated volunteers.
``They deliver 120 hot meals a day,'' said Schroeder. ``We really wanted to do something for our volunteers to let them know how much we appreciate them.''
Still, as with most organizations, Meals on Wheels needs more helpers. Sentara Nursing Center off Rosemont Road lets Meals on Wheels use its kitchen facilities to prepare the food. Volunteer drivers deliver the food between 10:30 a.m. and noon every day. Most volunteers work just one day a month.
``Most of our volunteers come from churches and civic groups,'' said Schroeder. ``But we do have a lot who do it as individuals.''
If you would like to volunteer with Meals on Wheels, call 340-2066.
THE SPCA IS MORE THAN $300 RICHER, thanks to the generous penny-throwers at Westminster-Canterbury.
Last month the residents decided to pool their pennies and donate the money to the shelter. So during August residents tossed pennies, as well as other coins, into a 30-gallon drum. When the drum was dumped onto the office floor of public relations director Judy Baker, she found more than just coins.
``We had buttons, washers, screws, paper clips, and a prescription pill,'' said Baker, laughing. ``We started filling canvas bags and sent them to the bank. They weighed them and gave us a check.''
Baker figured the residents and employees had tossed in $150, maybe $175.
``I was surprised - we had $317.96,'' she said. ``Sharon (Adams, SPCA director) nearly fell over when I told her.'' ILLUSTRATION: Photos by PETER D. SUNDBERG
Volunteer Christina Brumfield checks the cards for Eugene Franks.
All eyes are on dealer Tammy Ferguson during the poker game at
Oakwood Nursing and Rehabilitation Center
by CNB