There are many days here which seem no different from other days. The sameness is only broken by tough events like a resident dying or being whisked to the hospital.

(Because this is not a "medical facility," if you fall, you'll be in the nearby hospital in a trice.)

Perhaps because all who are here are here till they die sometime in the future, the place is silent about who and why so and so was taken to the hospital. Eventually you can find out who it was by quietly asking an attendant who was the victim. He/she will whisper the name to you. Most of the time.

I didn't plan to start this opus on such a baleful note. But I'll try to leave you with a smile if possible.

I started this note after overhearing one of the residents softly crying. One of the staff immediately tried to console her, and did a wonderful job of it. I don't know the details of the problem, but I'll tell you a little. The speaker is a tall very lovely woman who walks in a dignified manner even when wielding a cane. All I heard her say, in a teary voice, was "I told them that I was a clerk in the post office, but they didn't believe me." Her words still haunt me. I want to know more but will respect her privacy.

Earlier in the day, I saw another woman sitting outside in the beautiful sun. I asked here how she was doing on this lovely day. Her reply was, "I don't belong in this place." Later I will try to talk with her. Maybe it will help, but maybe it won't.

As some of you know, I am here to be close to my wife, Joanne, who is in a nearby nursing home. She moved there when I could no longer take care of her. For those who knew her, I report that, when I arrive to visit, she spots me across the room and starts to smile. When I get close she just beams and says, "Where have you been?" The rest of her words are a bit muddled because she has had a few mile strokes in addition to her Alzheimer's disease.

So I am here, about a half an hour distant from Joanne, and it is easy to visit her.

As some of you know, I started a discussion group about two months ago. Most of the folks who attend the sessions are active participants, and the rest are quiet listeners.

I do it to take some monotony out of the lives of folks here who are not entranced by other scheduled events like Balloon volleyball, or Flower arranging, or Sing along with Cliff.

At our last discussion group, one lady had an interesting suggestion, she said, "Why don't we, instead of talking about immigration or stopping the Iraq war and other things like that that we really can't do anything about, have a couple of sessions about what we here are going to do with the rest of our lives. Here in this place?"

So that is what we will try to do. It is a tough challenge for me, and for other residents. First we have to face the fact that we will be here in this place for the rest of our lives. That's a lot to swallow.

I'll let you know how we make out with that tough question.

EUGENE MOORE is a community columnist. His commentary appears every other Monday.