(Summer, 1987.  St. Petersburg, Florida)

Brrrrrrrrring!!!

"Oh, it never fails, does it?  Every time I turn on the radio and put my feet up--"

"Brrrrrrrrring!!!

"I'm coming, I'm coming."  Bambi lowered the volume on the radio.  "Hold your horses!  You think a 90-year-old woman is gonna catch the phone on the first ring?"

Brrrriiingggg!!

Bambi shuffled her way into the kitchen and picked up the phone.  She grimaced as a curler smashed her ear.  "Hello?"

A frantic voice greeted her.  "Bambi, Bambi, help me quick! Come quick, it's awful!  It's terrible!  It's the end of the world!"

Bambi rolled her eyes.  "Gladys?  What's going on, Gladys?  I can barely hear you over all that noise.  What's that terrible squeaking?  And all those voices?  Are you having a party?  Why didn't you invite me?"

Gladys shrieked into the phone.  "Bambi, help me!  My washer's gonna explode!  You have to come over right now!  Save me Bambi, I'm gonna lose my whole apartment."

Bambi took a deep breath and steeled herself.  "Now Gladys, you just calm down.  Tell me exactly what's going on."

"My washer, my washer!"  Gladys howled.

"Your washer?  Gladys, are you sure it's your washer making those noises?  It sounds more like a radio."

"There's nothing wrong with my radio!" Gladys cried.  "It works perfectly."

Bambi nodded vigorously.  "Yes, I can hear that your radio works, Gladys.  So can our neighbors in Alabama and Georgia and Louisiana.  Just lower the volume, you'll be fine."

"How do I lower the volume on my washer?"  Gladys asked.

Bambi made a gesture of supplication towards the ceiling.  Perhaps a heavenly body would swoop down and assist her with Gladys?  When no response came, Bambi took matters into her owns hands.  "Turn off the washer!"  Bambi said between clenched teeth.

"But it's in the middle of a cycle," Gladys protested.

Bambi felt the blood drain out of the hand that gripped the phone.  "Gladys, darling, it's okay," she said as sweetly as possible.  "I'll be right here on the phone while you turn it off."

"Turn what off?  I'm not turning off Jammin' 103.  It's my favorite station."

Bambi slapped her head.  Dealing with a104-year old sometimes required monumental amounts of patience.  "Turn off the washer, Gladys."

"Now?"

"Yes, now!"

"Okay."

Bambi opened up a kitchen drawer, stuffed the phone inside, and shut the drawer again.  Then she ambled off in search of her favorite nail polish:  Red Devil.  She hummed softly as she applied two coats to every fingernail.  After inspecting her handiwork, she returned to the phone.  "Gladys?  You there yet?"

Glady's voice came from deep within her apartment.  "I don't know how to turn it off when it's in the middle of a cycle!"

Bambi returned the phone to the drawer, kicked off her slippers, and proceeded to polish each toenail.  Two coats later, she tried the phone again.  "Gladys, you back yet?  I don't hear the squeaking noise anymore."

"What noise?" Gladys asked.  "Why did you call me?"

Bambi made another gesture towards the heavenly bodies.  This gesture was not as kind as the first one.  "Gladys, listen to me.  You have to call a repairman to fix that washer."

"A repairman?  Who do I call?  How do I do that?"

Bambi began to pace the kitchen as she thought.  "Gladys, you look in the phone book.  There's a repair shop on Central Avenue.  James Jamison's Washer Repair, it's called."

"Bambi, you wouldn't happen to remember where I put my phone book, do you?"

Bambi jumped as she noticed her empty hand. "It's probably with my nail polish," she snapped as her eyes frantically searched her kitchen.

"Where's your nail polish?"  Gladys asked.

Bambi gasped, threw open the refrigerator door, and checked the butter compartment.  "Oh Gladys, you're contagious," she told her friend as she rescued the nail polish bottle.

"Contagious?  What's going on, Bambi?  You want me to come over?"

Gladys set the nail polish on her kitchen counter.  "Gladys, I want you to call information and get the number for James Jamison's Washer Repair on Central Avenue.  Call them right now, before you forget."

"Before I forget what?" Gladys asked.

"Talk to you later, Gladys.  Remember, tonight's dinner at Skidaddles."

"Bye Bambi."

Sighing heavily, Bambi hung up the phone.  Gratefully, she padded over to her favorite comfy chair, picked up her knitting and turned up the radio. 

"This is James at Jammin' 103 in St. Petersburg Florida," the DJ announced.  "Playing all the hits from the 60s and 70s."

Bambi furrowed her brow as she tried to retrieve a dropped stitch. 

"Listen up listeners.  We've got fab news for you today.  Be the thirteenth caller to Jammin' 103 and you could win a date with the one and only Ringo Starr."

"Hmph," Bambi muttered.  "What mother would name her child Ringo Starr?  No wonder there's only one of him."

"You know the number.  Just pick up your phone and dial J-A-M-M-I-N-G.  That's J-A-M-M-I-N-G and ask for me, James at Jammin' 103!  Remember, listeners.  Tonight's Date with Ringo Starr is sponsored by James Jamison Washer Repair on Central Avenue.  Shop all our Jamison stores for all your large appliance needs."

Bambi blew a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.  "Does your Mother know you're giving your phone number out on the radio?"

"The phone lines are lighting up.  Who's gonna be our lucky winner today?  That number again is J-A-M-M-I-N-G."

"I'll be the lucky winner if I ever finish this afghan," Bambi shook her head as she dropped another stitch.

"And heeeere we go!  Hello, and congratulations!  You're our lucky thirteenth caller.  Who am I talking to today?"

"This is Mrs. Gladys Kaminsky."

Bambi jumped so hard that her yarn flew off the needles and landed at her feet.  "Gladys, what are you doing?  You're supposed to be calling Jamison's Repair shop!"

"Tell me, Gladys, how does it feel to be our thirteenth caller?"

"Thirteenth caller?  So I'm not the only one having trouble with my washing machine today!  You should be ashamed of yourselves, selling washers that break so easily."

"Uh Gladys?  Gladys, I'm sorry, you're having trouble with your washer," the DJ sympathized.

"So am I!"

Bambi shook her head.  "Gladys, you get off that radio!"

"But we aren't here to talk about washers.  We're here to see if you can answer our question of the day.  And if you can do that, then you will win a date with Ringo."

"Bingo's on Wednesday," Gladys informed him.  "Everybody knows that!"

"Ha ha ha, Gladys.  You have a lovely sense of humor.  And here's your question for today:  Which Ringo Starr song hit number 3 on the charts in 1975?  Now listen carefully to the song choices.  Was it--

"No!" Gladys shouted.  "No Songs!  What kind of --"

"Gladys Kaminsky, you are 100% correct!  Ringo's No No Song, Written by Hoyt Axton hit the US charts in 1975.  Congratulations, Gladys!"

Bambi screamed.

"So what's that mean?"  Gladys asked.  "Are you gonna send someone to my apartment tonight or not?"

"That's right, Gladys.  In a few moments, we'll be asking you for your address.  But in the meantime, may I offer you our congratulations again."

"You're a strange man," Gladys said.  "Somebody better show up here tonight or there's gonna be big trouble."

The DJ laughed.  "Don't you worry, Gladys.  I promise, somebody will be showing up at your apartment tonight."

"And I want him here by 3:30 at the latest.  Otherwise we miss the early bird dinner at Skiddadles."

"Oh ho ho, Gladys.  You do make me laugh.  Maybe you'll call us again sometime."

"I hope not!  I want to get everything straightened out tonight."

"Well, good for you, Gladys.  And good luck this evening."

Bambi snapped off the radio.  "What's all this supposed to mean?  Gladys wins a date with the washer repairman?"

Brrrrrrring!!

"Again with the phone?  Gladys, if that's you, I'll strangle you."

Brrrrrrring.

"I'll strangle you as soon as I can get up out of this chair."

Brrrrrrringgggg

"Ring yourself already!  Hello?"

"Hello, Bambi, this is Maybell.  Did you hear what just happened on the radio?"

"Yeah," Bambi replied.  "Gladys won herself a free washer repair."

"Oh, is that what she did?  I thought she won at bingo."

Bambi shook her finger.  "Better watch out for yourself, Maybell.  Gladys is contagious.  We'll all end up just like her if we're not careful."

"End up like who?" Maybell asked.

Bambi sighed.  "What did you call me about, Maybell?"

"I want to know if what Gladys did on the radio is going to ruin our dinner plans.  I don't know what I'd do if we had to miss an eggplant dinner."

Bambi pursed her lips.  "Maybell, you worry too much.  We'll still meet at Gladys' condo at 3:30.  Then we'll all head over to Skiddadles restaurant, as planned.  Wild horses won't interfere with our plans, I promise."

"But Bambi, what if the washer repairman's still there?"

"Maybell, if he's cute, we'll invite him along!"

Maybell giggled.  "Okay, Bambi.  I'll call Flo and let her know the plan."

***

Brrrrrrring.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Mrs. Kaminsky.  I didn't expect you to get the phone on the first ring."

"I'm standing next to the phone in case the washer repairman calls," Gladys explained.  "Who is this?"

"This is security down at the front gate."

"Security?"  Gladys nervously ran her fingers through her blue-tinged hair.  "What's wrong?  Is the condo on fire?"

"No ma’am, Everything's fine... I think.  I'm just calling to report that you have a.... uh.... a visitor."

"Oh good!  It's the washer man.  You send him up here right away."

"Well, ma’am... he's not exactly what you're expecting."

"What do you think I'm expecting, a movie star?  Send him up, it's an emergency."

"Uh, Mrs. Kaminsky, there's something you should know about your visitor."

"Mr. Security, I'm an old woman.  I can't waste time talking when my washing machine is in distress."

"Uh, okay Mrs. Kaminsky.  I'm sending him up."

***

Ding Dong.

Gladys threw open her door.  "Oh, thank goodness you're--  You're not the washer repair man."  Gladys frowned.

"I hope not," Bambi snapped.

"Didn't he get here yet?" Flo asked.

"All day I've been waiting for him," Gladys complained.  "But the security man says he's on his way up now."

"Well, we may as well wait 'til he's done," Maybell said.  She led the other two ladies into the apartment, and they settled themselves on Gladys's plush couch. 

Ding Dong.

"Ah.  There he is!"

"Now Gladys, don't get over excited," Flo warned.

Gladys opened the front door.  "You're him?"  she asked.

"I'm him," the man announced.  "Ringo Starr."  He frowned.  "Something wrong?"

"You're not what I'm expecting," Gladys complained.  "Well, come on in anyway."

"At least he's dressed nicely," Maybell noted.  "I never saw such a suit before."

"You like it?" Ringo beamed.  He twirled around so the ladies could inspect it.  "Got it in Italy."

"Such beautiful roses," Flo said.  "Do you always bring roses?"

"Only when I come to see beautiful ladies."  Ringo smiled and handed the bouquet to Gladys.  Gladys blushed and giggled.  "Oh, this is so exciting."

"It is, isn't it?" Ringo grinned.  "Are you ready to go, then?"

"Ready to go?" Gladys asked.

"Sure.  The car's waiting outside."

"The car?" Gladys asked.  "You're going to take my washer in your car?"

Ringo looked startled.  "What's this about a washer, then?"

"My washer's making this terrible squeak," Gladys explained.

"She thinks it's gonna blow up," Bambi added.

"Come on, I'll show it to you," Gladys said.

Ringo shrugged.  "Well, I'll have a look, but I don't know if I can help you out.  It's not exactly my specialty, you see."

"Well, somebody's got to do something," Gladys said as she propelled Ringo down the hallway.  She gestured toward the washer.  "What do you think?"

"It's rather sweet," Ringo said.  "I never saw a washer this tiny."

"Can you fix it?" Gladys asked anxiously.

"Well, how about if I turn it on and we see what happens?"

Gladys grabbed Ringo’s arm.  "Be careful," she whispered.  "It's in the middle of a cycle."

Ringo nodded gravely.  "Thanks for the warning," he whispered.

Ringo pointed an index finger and aimed it at the Start button.  He looked towards Gladys for final approval.  She clutched her bouquet and nodded solemnly.  Ringo pressed the button.

SQUEAKKKKKKK!  The machine protested.

"It's the end of the universe," Gladys wailed.

Ringo gently patted her shoulder.  "Not to worry.  I think I know a little trick.  Have you got some cooking oil?"

Gladys turned towards the living room.  "Flo," she shouted.  "Do I have any cooking oil?"

"And a torch too," Ringo added.

Gladys' eyes widened.  "Cooking oil and a torch?  Are you going to cook my washer?"

Ringo chuckled.  "Sorry.  I meant to ask for a flashlight."

"Flo, do I have a flashlight?"

"I'll get everything," Flo yelled back.  Flo handed the items to Ringo.  "Come on, Gladys.  Let's go to the kitchen and put these flowers in water."

The two ladies abandoned Ringo to his work.

"What's all the banging and yelling?" Gladys asked. 

"All repairmen do that," Flo assured her.  "It's part of their mystique."

"Hey, listen to that!" Bambi exclaimed.

"Listen to what?"  Gladys asked.  "That's just my washer."

"No squeak!"  Flo and Maybell both cried.

Gladys raced down the hallway.

"I didn't know she could do that," Maybell observed. 

"Runs like a 60-year-old when she puts her mind to it," Bambi decreed.

A beaming Ringo showed off his work.  "All set."

Gladys hugged him.  "You're the greatest!" she cried.

Ringo puffed out his chest.  "I am the greatest," he agreed.  "And I did it all without messin' me suit!"

The other three ladies arrived to marvel over the quietly running washer.  Ringo's smile kept getting wider.

Maybell poked Bambi in the ribs.  "Bambi, you're right.  He is a cute repairman.  We should take him to dinner."

Ringo blinked.  "I thought that was the whole point of my coming here," he said.

The ladies looked at him.  "You mean you didn't want to fix my washer?" Gladys pouted.

"Oh yes, I very much wanted to fix your washer," Ringo said quickly.  "Absolutely.  Thrilled that I could help you."

Gladys beamed.  "So you'll come have dinner at Skiddadles with us?  My treat!"

Ringo smiled.  "Tell you what.  How about if I take all four of you ladies out somewhere special.  And it will be my treat."

The women giggled.  "Oh no dear, not on a repairman's salary," Bambi said.

"But--"

"Now you mustn't refuse your elders," Flo argued.

"We insist," Gladys agreed.

"Can't miss the eggplant early bird special," Maybell explained.  "It's our favorite."

Ringo nodded.  "Right.  Mustn't mess with tradition.  Ladies, if you'll just show me where to put these tools and where to wash my hands, we'll be off."

***

"Jamison's Repair Shop must be doing very well," Gladys remarked as a white limo pulled up to the condo entrance.  "A driver and everything."

Ringo laughed as he held the door open for the ladies.

"You know, I'd swear I'd met you somewheres before," Ringo said as the car pulled out of the drive.  "I get the distinct impression that I'd spent some time with you in a limo."

Gladys sat straight up.  "I'm not that kinda girl," she snapped.

Bambi stroked her chin.  "I think you're right," she mused.  "Didn't we meet you in England?  Were you in the car when Fake Cousin George drove us to meet Real Cousin George?"

Ringo thought for a second.  "Oh," he said slowly.  "You're the ladies that mixed up my friend George Harrison with your cousin George-- what was his last name?"

"Nobody can pronounce his last name," Flo said quickly.

Maybell glared at Flo.  "Nobody remembers his last name," Maybell amended.

"His name is Cousin George," Gladys said firmly.  "Real Cousin George."

Ringo nodded.  "I see.  So, I guess if you ladies could mix up former Beatle George Harrison with your elderly cousin, then it's entirely possible for you to mix up a washer repairman with--"

The ladies looked at him expectantly.

Ringo sat back and cleared his throat.  "Doesn't matter.  We're gonna have fun anyway, aren't we ladies?"

"We're here," Maybell announced.  "Driver, park in that spot by the front door.  The one that says 'Reserved for the Cottonheads.'"

"Uh, I can drop you right off at the front door," the driver suggested.

"No, no," said Bambi.  "That's our spot.  Al keeps it for us."

Gladys led the way into Skiddadles.  "The usual table, Al," she announced.  "Plus one extra chair for our guest.  He saved my life today."

A beaming Al took Gladys's hands.  "Gladys, ladies, lovely to see you as always.  And your guest is--"

"Al, you silly man," Gladys shrieked.  "Get up off the floor!"

"Look!"  Maybell cried.  "Those two ladies just fainted."

"And that man's choking," Flo gasped.  "So's that one!"

"Maybe the eggplant's not so fresh tonight," Glady mused."

Ringo chuckled.  "Uh, no ladies.  I think I'm the cause of all the excitement in here."

A trembling young woman approached Ringo.  "Oh please, I'm such a fan.  Please could you sign my menu?"

"Certainly," Ringo grinned and pulled out a pen.

Immediately a line of excited patrons formed in front of Ringo.  They giggled and blushed and held all out kinds of items for him to sign, from dollar bills to Skiddadles Frequent Eater cards.  One man even handed Ringo a white tablecloth.  "I'll even it up with Al," he shrugged as he eyed the unconscious owner.

Flo bent towards Maybell's ear.  "He must be the top repairman at Jamison's," she whispered.

"Maybe we should ask for his signature, too.  Just in case," Maybell whispered back.

"Al, you're not going to faint again, are you?" Gladys asked as the restaurant's owner stood up on wobbly legs and brushed himself off.

Al shook his head and smiled.  "I had the funniest dream," he said strangely.  "I dreamt that you brought Ringo Starr into my restaurant for my fabulous eggplant special."  Al laughed and shook his head.

The restaurant man looked up and locked eyes with Ringo.  Al made a loud thump as he hit the floor again.

"Al," Gladys wagged a finger at him.  "If you keep doing that, we won't get to our seats in time for the early bird special."

"I'll handle this!" Bambi cried.  "Cottonheads.  Repairman.  Follow me."  Bambi lead her troops over Al's prone body and across the restaurant to their usual table by the front window.  A waiter appeared immediately.

"Hello ladies.  And hello, uh, yeah, uh...Hi."  The waiter paled.  "Five eggplant specials?"

"Absolutely," Bambi instructed him.  "And five raspberry iced teas."

"And I'm paying," Gladys announced.  "Don't let anybody else pay."  She pointed at Ringo.  "Especially not that poor man."

The waiter swallowed and nodded.

***

After dinner, the group piled back inside the limo.  Everybody wore a smile except Gladys.  She folded her arms over her chest.  "I can't believe Al wouldn't let me pay for dinner."

"He wouldn't let anybody pay," Maybell consoled her.

"Poor Al.  All those times his head hit the floor.  No wonder he got confused and thought that he should be paying for us," said Flo.

"He really liked you," Bambi said to Ringo.  "Did you ever do any work for him?"

"Work for Al?  You mean like repair his washer or something?"

Bambi nodded.

Ringo shook his head.  "No, I never met him before."  He shrugged.  "I guess he knows about me by reputation."

"We're home," Flo announced.

"Just in time to watch Golden Girls," Maybell added.

Ringo nodded as the limo pulled up in front of the condo building.  "Well, ladies, I hate to say goodbye.  I've had such a lovely time meeting you and learning about your families and such."

"Will we ever see you again?"  Bambi asked.

"Would you like that?"

All the ladies nodded. 

"Tell you what then," Ringo said.  "I'll let you in on a little secret."

The ladies leaned forward in their seats. 

"I've got another job besides repairing washers," he whispered.  "On the weekends, I do a bit of singing with a band."

"I used to be in a band!" Gladys piped up.  "I played violin with Lawrence Welk!"

"Really?" Ringo smiled.  "Well, it's nice to meet a fellow musician." 

Gladys beamed.

"So here's what we'll do.  Saturday night, I'll send a limo 'round to your place around five."

"What about dinner?" asked Maybell.

"Don't worry, Maybell.  You'll have dinner with me.  I'll introduce you to the wife and some of my friends.  My treat this time."

"We'll do it!" Bambi announced.

"Great!"  Ringo responded.  "Oh, and one more thing.  I'd like you ladies to invite Al along, too.  Tell him that the car will pick him up at your place."

The ladies nodded.

"You don't mind if I bring my toaster, do you?"  Flo asked.

Ringo chuckled.  "We can arrange for a toaster, Flo.  You don't have to bring your own."

Flo laughed.  "Silly Ringo.  I saw how quickly you fixed Gladys's washer.  I want you to fix my toaster."

"Doesn't make the toast toasty enough," Gladys explained.

Ringo nodded gravely.  "Yes, that is a serious problem.  Tell you what.  Let me think about it 'til Saturday, and I'm sure I'll come up with a solution."

Flo clapped her hands.  "You really are the greatest!"

"No wonder Al faints when he sees you!"  Gladys cried. 

"Goodnight ladies!  Don't forget about Saturday night!"

"We won't, we won't."

"You will too, Gladys!"

"Will what, Maybell?"

"Goodnight ladies!  Thanks again."

As the limo headed out into traffic, Ringo leaned forward towards the driver.  "Hey Alf.  How about we stop at that all night K-Mart that's down the road a bit?"

"K-Mart?" Alf shrugged.  "What could you possibly want to buy at this hour?"

"Well, for starters, I think I need one condo-sized toaster.  And some wrapping paper and ribbon."

Lisha Goldberg is a Technical Writer/Website Developer for a Massachusetts-based insurance company. She also writes a newsletter for a Boston piano studio. Lisha has won several prizes for her writing, including the Boston Herald Star Trek Competition (write a eulogy for Captain Kirk!), CompuServe's Beatle Essay Contest, and Writers Digest Magazine Award for best Inspirational Short Story.