I heard this joke on the radio this morning.
“No I don’t,” she replied, “But if you go to the front desk, they’ll tell you.”
It’s a cute joke and it made me smile, but it also made me think.
First, I thought about living in a place where, every now and then, everyone has to walk to the front desk to be reminded of their name, or what they did for a living, or who comes to visit them and when. I imagine I’d feel pretty empty walking up there. Who am I? What did I do with my life? Is it a wasted life? Is that why I can’t remember it now?
But then I thought that, as sad as that trip to the front desk might be for someone, the trip back to one’s room would probably be a happy one. Walking to the front desk, you were just an old person, indistinguishable even to yourself from the dozens of other old people that surround you. But then you heard the nurse say, “Why, you’re Ms. Jenkins, and you were a school teacher!” I am? I was? That means I taught thousands of children to read! That’s something to be proud of. I didn’t know I had it in me!