If “pearls of wisdom” were real gems any caregiver who listened to our alumni’s lives would be rich.

We amassed vast collections of these pearls. Now, we offer them at no cost. Who’s taking them?

All that wisdom. But who’s listening? Our contemporaries nod understanding. Our students, like our kids, like us as young folks, nod off.

Our greatest accomplishment these days might be getting a family member to silence their smartphone long enough to hear about the time we handled three code blues before breakfast. Sometimes, you get the sense that your stories land with all the thunder of a defibrillator on a plush toy.

Take heart! This is our rite of passage. Heed Mark Twain (who never lectured): “Wisdom is the reward you get for a lifetime of listening when you’d have preferred to talk.”

We do not need to slip our pearls of wisdom into TikTok dances. In law and divinity school I learned the power of four words: “Once upon a time…”

Note: You cannot just say, “I handled three codes….” That’s a report, resume stuff, not a story.

Maybe, “Once morning in 1998 I arrived at work just as a patient arrested. I raced into the room. The patient was blue. His family’s faces were white. They turned to me, waiting to see if I could save their father’s life…”

Every patient, every colleague, and every story shared shapes the spirit of a hospital. If you want to pass along wisdom, learn from “Once upon a time…”

Learn from the way Jesus answered the lawyer’s story, “How do I get into heaven?” He gave no instructions. He told one of the most enduring stories in history.

Can you learn storytelling like that? If not, brace yourself for bored looks. If so, you will hand pearls to ones who will treasure them the rest of their lives.  

Erie Chapman

My daughter, Tia Chapman, took the photo for the Hartford Courant. I renamed it “Modern Day Good Samaritan.