Ingenious

It's 6:12 a.m. and trickling rain makes Gilbert Avenue in urban Cincinnati glisten in the streetlights. I park in my usual on-street parking spot and gingerly make my way across the street to the building entrance. A portico provides shelter from the rain. I like to park on the street since I'm pointed in the direction to drive off to work instead of trying to navigate that when the traffic gets heavier after our one-hour radio reading show on the air.

Another radio reader has also arrived so we chat briefly under the portico. At that moment the city bus pulls up and off hops Chuck, one of several visually-impaired workers who is accompanied by his service dog, a confident and affable German shepherd. Chuck hears us talking and says a hearty, "Good Morning." He immediately digs in his pocket for his wallet containing the computer access card that will activate the doorway to open.

"Not in that pocket, I guess," mutters Chuck. He shifts the dog handle to his other hand and reaches in a back pocket. "Hmmm, not in that pocket either." Chuck shifts the dog handle back to his original hand and reaches into his jacket pocket. Voila! Chuck pulls out his wallet containing the all-important computer access card. He holds it over the light sensor and in two seconds we hear the familiar "click" and the door opens. Bryan and I follow Chuck and his dog into the building. Bryan heads off to a depository to retrieve the newspapers we'll be reading and I continue on with Chuck to the elevator.

Chuck says, "I think they should give us rings. Computer access rings. Like Captain Marvel. All we'd need to do would be to flash our ring under the light sensor and the door would open. I hate all that fumbling with the access card in my wallet since I can't ever remember which pocket it's in. But a ring? Cool. You just walk up to the door, hold out your hand, and poof you get in. Yes, we should definitely go to rings."

By then we are at the elevator, we enter, Chuck says, "Third floor, please", and up we go. "I like your idea, Chuck," I say, "because a ring would be so simple to use. Maybe it could double as a wedding ring, as a school ring, as an ID, and as a decoder. You know — wear just one ring that does it all."

As the elevator doors open on the floor Chuck wanted, he exits with his dog and says, "Ma'am, I work so many hours that it feels like I'm married to this place so a multi-purpose ring might do the trick. Yes, I think it would. Why not?"

[Nancy Linenkugel is a Sylvania Franciscan sister and chair of the department of Health Services Administration at Xavier University, Cincinnati Ohio.]