Keys: An Ongoing Saga at the Retirement Home

Everyone loses their keys sometime. I’m sure that close to 100 percent of the customers in the locksmith shops and key duplicating kiosks are replacing lost keys. The thing about lost keys is that one does not lose one’s keys; your keys just get lost or most likely, just disappear. We’ve all heard this cry: “They were here on the table just 5 minutes ago and now when I came to pick them up to go to the car, they have disappeared!”

As a child I did well out of lost keys. I lived in a large house with many cupboards and small rooms. Because she was convinced that the servants would steal everything from her, my grandmother kept everything locked and carried a huge bunch of keys that could open everything. She kept the keys in her hands or in the pocket of the apron she always wore. But her keys were always “lost” and there was always a reward for finding them. My bother and I would listen for the cry, “has anyone seen my keys? A penny for the finder!” It is possible, of course, with such large rewards being offered, that it was us that “got the keys lost”.

Here in the Retirement Home keys go missing every day; keys to the apartment, car keys and other keys. It’s an ongoing event. Somewhere deep under the foundations of this large building there is a key repository, but there is no reception desk, no clerk and no access. This is the “lost” department. There is no “found” department as is usual. Retirement homes are different.

There is also no lost-key pattern, meaning it’s not mainly the men or the women; the young or the old; everyone is prone to losing their keys. And if you are going to lose them, what better place than a retirement home? Everyone knows about the memory glitch here.

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One response to “Keys: An Ongoing Saga at the Retirement Home

  • Rene Miller

    I remember well the story of the BUNCH OF KEYS, my late mom-law always had her bunch of keys and very often would forget where she hid them, also an aunt of mine who lived in Durbanville in the Cape had her keys around her waist or in her apron. I have often told my children and grandchilren, and think I’m crazy. keep up the wonderful stories. “KOL A KAVOD” to you.

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