I have worked as a chaplain at Hancock Health for fifteen years now. Every week I will pass by this call board at least a dozen times on my way to seeing patients or working on projects. A few days ago, it caught my attention like never before. Nothing about it had changed in the meantime. It hasn’t worked in all the time I’ve been here. I’ve met some of the physicians who are still listed. Others have moved on in one way or another.
I could research the facts behind its construction. I could search for the schematics on the Internet. But those are just the cold facts. It is people who bring things and places to life. If those buttons could talk what stories they would tell! This was probably the main employee entrance during the blizzard of ’78 when physicians rode snowmobiles — or was it sled dogs — to the hospital to continue the care of their patients. I wonder whose button was the last one pushed before more modern technology replaced it. There are some who may wish that newer and more efficient technology had never been invented!
Facts matter, but stories bring meaning. This is why human beings often resist change. The places we frequent, the smells and tastes we savor, and the others who are with us form the content of our journey. When things are gone or severely changed — like the Cathedral de Notre Dame this week — something in us changes.
The things that matter are not always the things that function as before. Why else the fascination with antiques? That gives me some hope. As I age, I hope that others will at least be a little curious. What has that man’s story taken him?
We all have stories of places and things and others. We just need to stop ourselves in our tracks and just wonder at each other. Some of us need to start writing, or painting, or singing or . . .