In 1985 there were 350,000 cases of the crippling disease in 125 countries. Today, thanks to the efforts of Rotarians, the World Health Organization, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and others, the number of endemic countries has been reduced to four: Afghanistan, India, Nigeria and Pakistan. Still, if people don’t act, more than 10 million children will be paralyzed in the next 40 years.

After 20 years of work, Rotary International is making a final push to eradicate the disease. It is asking the world community to help raise $555 million to directly support immunization campaigns in developing countries. “As long as polio threatens even one child anywhere in the world, children everywhere remain at risk,” Rotary states on its website. “The stakes are that high.”

Driving south on Route 27 from Gainesville to Sebring we took a right on Lake Minneola Road because the name sounded nice and headed into the small town of Clermont. In the historic downtown we found clean, quiet streets for a Saturday, mile temperatures (long-sleeved shirt weather, maybe close to 60). Stopped at Liz’s Ice Cream & Deli for lunch with a table of about 10 senior citizens and Liz behind the counter making sandwiches. Very, very friendly people. Two were Kiwanians and one a Rotarian, in their 60s and 70s and maybe early 80s. They talked about sex and getting drunk the previous night. Must be the Florida heat.

We drove around the south shore of Lake Minneola and were impressed with the public spaces—beach and pavilion, walking and bike paths and what looked like an amphitheater under construction. Big lake with some chop from the wind but it wasn’t undergoing eutrophication as so many of the shallow lakes in this part of central Florida.

After lunch we drove to Sebring and checked into the Inn on the Lake, a beautiful three-story hotel in the Spanish style across the highway from Lake Jackson, with a view of Little Lake Jackson from the room. There was a pool for lounging and groups of friendly, talkative people. Golfers we guessed from the tournament sign-in sheet in the lobby. Most in their 60s, a few younger, a few older. They sat in the back of the lobby by the fireplace and talked about getting laid. What’s with this generation?

Drove through an industrial area for dinner at the Blue Crab, a cross between a restaurant and clam shack, a place for seniors, blue-collar retirees and (finally) locals. It’s owned by a couple of bikers. The waitresses looked lean and nicotine burned. Ours was named Mel. Before she took our order she introduced herself as Big Bird and said that her boss, Bill, calls her Turkey Buzzard. She leaned toward us and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “I told him, ‘You call me that because I eat a lot of shit around here, so it must be true.’” Then she reared back quickly as if she’d given offense. Not at all. If she wants to burn her ears she should hike up the road and watch the old folks strut their nine irons.

Sunday, Jan. 9. Finally we have reached the summit: at the Inn on the Lake the orange juice is excellent, fresh-squeezed, the waitress said, by a local company. After breakfast we drove south to the small town of Lake Placid to see if lived up to its name. It did, maybe a bit too much. In Sebring the business district consisted of a couple of stores and a consignment shop on a rotary. Here there isn’t even a business district. And once outside town things got thin rather quickly. Around the lake some homes backed onto water but they were crushed together, on busy highways and fully exposed to the sun. Not much fun in August.

Lunch at the Tower View Restaurant in Lake Placid—second time we stumbled onto one of the more popular restaurants for locals. Then north to the Sebring International Raceway, home of the 12-hour Grand Prix, where we spent half an hour watching small noisy cars race around a very long track.

Back home to have a drink by the pool, dinner at the hotel restaurant and a wild evening doing laundry. Tomorrow the real world beckons as we head to Orlando to cover the International Builders Show at the Orange County Convention Center.

Spent the afternoon in the Appleton Museum browsing the collections of European art and Florida paintings. “Reflections: Paintings of Florida, 1865-1965” included work by household names such as Wyeth and Tiffany but my favorites were the broad impressionistic works of Anthony Thieme (1888-1954), the Dutch-born painter who moved to Massachusetts. The exhibit contained three of his works: The Loquat Tree, Evening Light on the Suwannee River and Aviles Street Garden, all done around 1940.

It was ten of five, close to closing. The sky opened, the rain came down as if it meant someone harm. A museum guard loaned me an umbrella to run to the car and bring it in front of the building, and away we went to find an authentic place to eat, the kind of place the locals favor. Of course we can’t always deliver on that culinary mission and wound up at a barbecue joint called Sonny’s. (Didn’t realize the corrugated metal place was a franchise until we saw another one in Gainesville.)

Thursday, Jan. 6. After a late breakfast at the hotel we left Ocala for a drive through historic Micanopy. The buildings look worn and in need of reinforcement and paint. In this case the term historical means neglected. But it’s a quiet little town with dogs in baby carriages and friendly servers in the local sandwich shop. At the Coffee N Cream a half dozen men played cards at a table on the sidewalk, a dog at their feet, while we ate egg salad and chicken salad and sipped water and coffee (saving the juice for the AM) on the porch of the café and warmed ourselves in the sun. In early January. A treat in itself.

After that we headed north to the outskirts of Gainesville, home of the University of Florida Gators, and checked into a Cabot Lodge near I-75. Different vibe than in Ocala—more crowds, more traffic, with a card in the room warning guests to lock their doors and hide their cash and valuables. Sounds like Dallas.

Dinner at Amelia’s, just behind the Hippodrome Theatre in Gainesville. I called the restaurant to see if they had any red sauce without certain ingredients and Chef Andy himself returned my call. None of the bad stuff, he said, and they make all of their sauces by hand. So we dined on eggplant parmesan and angel hair with marinara. Beautiful. Chef Andy, dressed in a double-breasted black smock and pajama pants, stopped by our table to introduce himself and see how everything was. Very nice, and within a few feet of the theater.

The highlight of the trip: two seats in the front row at the Hipp for the preview of End Days. Wonderful storyline, passionate acting. Directed by Lauren Caldwell, the play is funny, dramatic and touching, one of the first attempts I’ve seen that deals with the aftermath of 9/11. (I posed a review on this blog at the time called “It’s the end of the world and we like it.”)

Friday, Jan. 7. We’re sitting in Starbuck’s in downtown Gainesville using the free Wi-Fi network. We spent the morning at Palm Point Park at Lake Newnan, walking under live oaks shrouded with Spanish moss that looked like the shredded remnants of ghosts. After driving through the University of Florida campus and peeking into the bookstore with its lines of students buying and selling texts, we had a late lunch at Harry’s (a Louisiana gumbo kind of place that didn’t feel like a franchise) and wound up outside the Hippodrome Theatre again. We’re seeing the indie film “Nowhere Boy” about John Lennon’s teen years.

The film was bit slow but rich in detail about Lennon’s conflicted relationship with his mother, Julia, and the woman who raised him, his Aunt Mimi. And then, as the house lights went up, three old timers with acoustic guitars strolled in and led the audience in a sing-along of Beatles’ songs written by Lennon, including some challenging ones like “I am the Walrus” and “Day in the Life” and one that pushed the bounds of irony, “Happiness is a Warm Gun.” Nearly everyone in the theater sang along with the first six or seven. I couldn’t remember the words to “Happiness” but the woman in front of us with the sculpted gray hair knew the lyrics.

“How do you guys know all the words?” one of the musicians asked, a little disingenuously I thought but in good fun. He was a bearded guy who might have played with the Four Freshman or Peter, Paul and Mary, or he could have opened for Jesus.

“Because we’re OLD,” shouted one of the men in the audience and we all laughed, knowing this was more of a call-and-response since nearly everyone in the theater was a baby boomer. But not old. Young baby boomers. The trailing edge. Not a one of us breaking into the chorus of “When I’m 64.”

Players have a chance to win dozens of retired and collectable baskets, including a 1990 tea basket with liner and lidded insert, a 1999 blue ribbon bread basket combo and a JW miniature apple and market basket valued at more than $135. The club will fill all of the baskets with additional prizes. Gift certificates to area businesses will be offered as door prizes.

Proceeds from this year’s fundraiser will help the Jackson Township Volunteer Fire Co. purchase a 4-Gas Sensor, an atmospheric monitor that detects health and fire hazards to determine if it is safe for a firefighter to enter the building. Proceeds will also benefit the West End Rotary Club’s Community Wish List. Funds from previous basket Bingo events have enabled West End Rotary to purchase ice rescue suits for Polk Township fire fighters, a thermal imaging scanner upgrade for the Blue Ridge Hook & Ladder Co., a new sign for the Kunkletown Volunteer Fire Co. and a public address system for the Western Pocono Community Library.

People who cannot attend but who would like to help Rotary and the fire companies can sponsor a basket in the name of their business or family. Contact Theresa Yocum at (570) 280-6476 or tyocum@combk.com for more information.

Tickets may be purchased in advanced at Creature Comforts Veterinary Center in Saylorsburg, West End Happenings in Gilbert and Community Bank and Trust Co. in Tannersville. Tickets will also be sold at the door as long as there are seats available.

West End Rotary meets Thursday at 7:30 a.m. in the community room of the Western Pocono Community Library. For more information visit the club website.

Crowds enjoy West End Rotary's Longaberger Basket Bingo

Through organizations such as the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and Rotary International,  health workers had reduced the incidence of polio to four countries. But last summer polio spread across Africa, despite an ambitious campaign to eradicate the disease.

Gates was faced with the question most health-care workers continue to debate, according to an article in The Wall Street Journal: do you focus on eradicating the disease or improving the overall health-care system? For Gates and Rotary, the answer is “both.”

It is a challenge that Rotary has met since it launched its PolioPlus initiative in 1985.

As of March 31, Rotarians have raised about $117.5 million for Rotary’s US$200 Million Challenge. These contributions will help Rotary match $355 million in challenge grants received from the Gates foundation. The resulting $555 million will directly support immunization campaigns in developing countries, where polio continues to infect and paralyze children, robbing them of their futures and compounding the hardships faced by their families.

In early March, Rotary kicked off a program to immunize more than 85 million children under age five against polio in 19 countries across West and Central Africa. With more than 400,000 volunteers and health workers, the campaign is a massive example of cross-border cooperation aimed at stopping a yearlong polio epidemic. You can track these efforts on a Google map.

Thanks to the Salk and Sabin vaccines, health workers have virtually eliminated polio in the developed world. But conflict and misinformation have prevented its eradication in many developing countries, including Africa.

Despite the setback there, Gates still believes it’s possible to free the world of polio. As he told Rotarians in a video message in April, “The work you’re doing to raise funds for the program is critical, especially given the tight government budgets and increasing costs for a very aggressive polio program. Your work as advocates is also very important. We need to keep this fight high on the world’s list of priorities.”

The occasion was the West End Rotary Club’s Longaberger Basket Bingo, an annual event to raise money for local firefighters, and shortly after the doors opened at noon the hall filled with people who had prizes in their eyes. With Valentine’s Day only two weeks away, row upon row of people sat at long tables decorated with red and white cloths, flowered centerpieces, stacks of Bingo cards, plastic chips, self-inking stampers and stuffed animals the players would use as good-luck charms. Most of the people who attend these events are women but this year a few men and several children came out for the competition.

The activities room in the fire hall is long affair with wood-paneled walls and a kitchen off the back. The caller sat in front of a giant lighted board that displayed the numbers. There were two sets of 10 games, with four specials interspersed among the regular ones. In honor of Valentine’s Day, one of the specials was the letter “V,” where in order to win players had to match the numbers that matched the shape of the letter.

Bingo at this level isn’t cheap. Tickets were $20 in advance. That provided each player with two cards. Many bought more. Two women on the end nearest the kitchen were playing with 18 cards a piece. How they kept track of all of those numbers is anyone’s guess. Maybe they had great spatial perception. They’d plunk their plastic chips onto the cards and when the game ended, the hall filled with the click click of mating crickets. Yet the allure of winning a basket kept them going. A plain picnic basket with a wooden lid sells for $140 on the Longaberger website and a retired classic hostess file basket was going for nearly $290 on eBay. All of the baskets at the Rotary event were retired or collectors’ editions.

Play started slowly, with the women at a table near the front racking up an impressive two-basket lead. Suddenly a man, one of six in a field of 94, raised his hand and yelled “Bingo!” The runner looked at his card and yelled out the digits. Once the caller verified the numbers, another runner brought one of the baskets to him.

After 10 games and 2 specials the MC broke for food, and the crowd came streaming past the kitchen. With hotdogs at a dollar and homemade barbecue going for a buck and a half, it was the bargain of the day. Last year the macaroni and cheese was the biggest hit. This year it was—are you ready?—filling and gravy (stuffing and gravy to world outside the West End). We served that with pierogis, shoofly cupcakes and diet cola. Mmmm. All the carbs you can carry.

After the break the crowd was fairly quite but the competitive spirit wasn’t far from the surface. The table nearest the caller racked up another basket. Then the lone male in the back won his second basket, then a third. A low murmur like a subway slowing for a stop passed through the crowd as they weighed the odds of this phenomenon in a game of luck, but to their credit they remained civil. After all, the raffle was coming up for the biggest baskets, priced on the open market in the hundreds of dollars. And these were filled, one packed beyond the rim with wine and other spirits. Plus the 50-50 had already shot past the $300 mark. Time to win back some of the day’s investment.

In a last-minute sprint, the women in the front pulled past the men, besting them two-to-one. The MC queued up the final game, called a coverall, where players had to fill the entire card. When the smoke had cleared, they packed up their talismans and chips and grabbed a dessert for dinner, warrior wives lugging their trophies home after the big hunt.

It remains one of the great mysteries of life why we collect the objects we do. Some of us pile up figurines, dollhouses, beer cans, books, video games and, in the virtual world, batting averages and MP3 files, until we can’t possibly comprehend or move all of our stuff. Dust-catchers, one wag said. Valuable collector’s items, another countered. To display our wealth, we buy cases for the family room, shelves for the basement and plastic tubs for the garage, the family car relegated to the driveway because there is no more room at the inn. It’s a habit, an obsession and a questionable expense, an effort to show off, an attempt to organize the chaos of life.

And, for the most part, fun. Especially when the effort is for a good cause.