Once we returned to the complex, we adjourned to the "winery", or room where the Folks can grab some cheese and crackers and a couple of glasses of wine. I'm told that some of the residents are limited to two glasses "for obvious reasons". I guess alcoholism doesn't just get rid of itself after all. The last time I went to the Winery, which gave me the idea for this project in the first place, I was struck by the energy of the place. They have a woman playing the piano at the front of the room, and people will just bust out singing as loudly as they can. She mostly plays old standard tunes, but there is this man, Ferguson, who has the mot beautful rag-timey voice ever and he always sings the loudest. He's kind of the star. I really want to take his picture someday but I'm shy. This other man, Max, sits with Gammy, Ira, and I. 
He is the sweetest man ever. He's very gentle and softspoken, with a bit of a lisp. He is so impressed that Gammy knows all of the songs played on the piano, that they play a little game of Name That Tune every time. He was telling me today about how much he misses his wife, and how they spent 55 beautiful years together. He told me that their idea of a perfect date was going dancing, then to an Italian restaurant for pizza. She died almost two years ago, in October.
Ira, my Gammy's boyfriend, was a really famous photographer (he took the famous picture of Sophia Loren staring at Jayne Mansfield's cleavage). 
He was giving me pointers the whole time.
He thought that cookie looked like a mad face.
There was some slight drama, however, when I was approached by one of a group of ladies that seem to be the equivalent of "Mean Girls". Gossip is actually a big deal here, according to Gammy. I was just singing along with Ferguson, when this woman calls to me and I'm thinking she is going to ask for me to take her picture, but she lets me know that I "really should ask permission before I take people's picture". What a Debbie Downer. So, more later.
