The two sides of a conversation
By:
Oliver P. Huffman
James walked down a pedestrian street in the party
neighborhood of Budapest hoping he’d see a couple of friends so he’d have
company while he drank a few drinks. When he reached the other end of the street
and realized he hadn’t seen any friends the sound of a piano playing nearby
caught his ear. He turned toward the music and saw an old gentleman playing on
a piano in a bar not farther than five meters away. James walked up to the counter
of the bar, ordered a whisky and rotated his chair so he could see the piano
and the crowd in the bar.
The pianist started playing jazz versions of old
Anglo-Saxon children’s songs and a few people decided to sing along blithely.
James noticed an old man not far from him singing along carelessly as he sat
alone at his table with only a half empty bottle of wine and a book to keep him
company.
“He must be American” James thought to himself.
James got up and walked over to the old man’s table.
“Hello, I’ve been told the first sign of alcoholism is drinking alone, so let’s
help each other out. May I please sit down? My name is James.”
“Hello James, please take a seat” the old man said rather
surprised but happily. He pulled out a chair and placed it next to his own and
motioned to James to take a seat.
“So tell me what is it that you do?” asked James as he
examined the cover of the book which said ‘Moral obligations’ on it, so he
quickly changed his mind and said “Wait, let me guess…”
“Ok.” The old man replied rather amused by the idea.
“You’re an ethics teacher.”
“No, but quite close.” Said the old man with a
childlike smile on his face. “Among other things I teach philosophy.”
“What kind of philosophy?”
“It’s called analytical philosophy, but it’s too
complicated for me to explain to you so let’s talk about something else.”
“I understand, so where are you from?”
“I’m from here”
James looked puzzled and confused “What do you mean?”
“Well, I was born here, in Hungary.”
“But you sound and feel so American…”
“Well that is probably because I left in 1956 and now
I live in Florida.
“So you’re American.”
“No, I’m British.”
James felt even more baffled. What the man was saying
didn’t add up. “Wait a second. You were born in Hungary during the Second World
War, I’m guessing, and in ’56 you and your family moved to…” James motioned to
the old man to finish the sentence.
“…Britain. We went to Britain and I went to college
there.”
“And afterwards you moved to Florida?”
“No I moved to New York but that’s a whole other
story. But enough about me, tell me about yourself.”
James sighed and looked puzzled. He could decide what
to tell the old man. Suddenly no topic felt quite worthy enough. “Well, I have
a crush on one of my classmates and I’m not sure…”
“No! No! No! You have to start from the beginning.
Where are you from and who are your parents?”
“My father is from West Virginia he was born and
raised there by a German mother and an American father who was a German
literature professor and my mother was born here and she was the daughter of
the Hungarian ambassador to America, Sweden and Holland during the cold war. I
think this is one of the reasons why my father gives me more freedom and my
mother keeps a closer eye on me and the things I do. Since first grade I have
been going to a Waldorf school, which was originally founded by Rudolf Steiner
in the late 19th century…” the old man nodded signaling he knew who
Steiner was, “…and the Waldorf high school I attend currently was founded two
year ago but it is growing quickly and the girl whom I have a crush on
transferred one and a half years ago.”
“So why do you like her?”
“Well, she is kind, smart and pretty and when she
smiles her face lights up and her eyes sparkle like stares in a clear summer
night sky. But if I’m being totally honest, there are prettier girls than her
in my class so I’m not quite sure what caught my attention. But I’m afraid, if
I started dating her and we broke up, we would still need to see each other a
lot. And I would not want to see my ex five days a week! Not to mention losing
an extraordinary friend.”
“Two things” the man said softly as he took a sip of
his wine. “One, you are way too self-obsessed. The way you grow up is to start
thinking about other people as well. Think about what she would gain from this
relationship. Think about it! Two, you think too much about the wrong problems.
You haven’t even gotten together with her and you are already thinking about
the breakup. As an old man I can tell you, the things you regret the most are
the things you didn’t do. But if you read Plato it’s all there; your problem
and all the other problems which we all face.”
By this point James had drunk the last of his whisky
and a waiter asked if he would like a second one. James nodded quietly and
turned back to the old man. “So are you saying I should ask her out or not?”
“All I’m saying is, think about the real problems
because that is the only way to success. Think about it!” As he said the last
sentence he tapped his forehead with his index finger for emphasis, which James
found weird but kept it to himself. “Read Plato, it’s all there.”
The waiter brought a second whisky for James, topped
off the old man’s wine glass and took away the bottle.
“So what counts as a real problem? Money or the
environment?”
“Now the environment is a real problem or I should say
an important problem.”
“The reason why I brought it up is because in Waldorf
schools every student has to choose a topic in the 12th grade and
they have to research the topic and at the end of the year they have to present
it to the other students and teachers…”
“Don’t say they.
Say, every student” interrupted the old man. “The way you use words effects the
way you use a language. The way you use a language effects the way you think.
Better use of words leads to better thinking.”
“I see” said James and paused for a second to process
what he had just heard. “So every student has to present their work to the
other students and my topic was green roofs.”
“Green roofs…” the old man said and paused as though
he wanted to taste the words like a sommelier sips a good wine. “Now that is
interesting. So do you want to do something with green roofs in the future?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’m considering it but it’s a hard
path and to be honest I’m not sure if it’s my path or not.” James took a big
sip of his new whisky. “So do you have any favorite musicians” he asked because
he felt the last topic had reached its limits.
“That’s a stupid question” the old man answered.
“Why?”
“Well, it’s stupid because it’s like asking who the
best painter was. Best in what? Brush work? Ideas? The question is stupid
because it’s not specific enough. The key to a good answer is a good question.”
“Ok,” James felt a little embarrassed but tried again “who
is your favorite opera composer?”
After a long discussion of opera, string quartets and
whether modern music counts as music or just simply noise, a waiter walked over
and informed James and the old man that the bar is closing.
“Well it was nice meeting you James” the old man said
handing him a card. “Here is my email address, you can decide whether this was
only a one night discussion or you would like to stay in touch. You are a very
intelligent young man and that girl is lucky you chose her. Remember, the
answer to your problem is in the books of Plato. It’s up to you whether you’d
like to possess that knowledge. Think about it!”
“Thank you” James said as he accepted the card with a
genuine smile “I enjoyed meeting you too. I learned a lot about myself and many
other things. I will read Plato and if I have any questions I will know who to
turn to.”
They shook hands and James went home.
The next day James wrote to his crush on Facebook and
told her all about how he had met the old man at the bar, how the man had told
him to read Plato and how he decided to read it.
She answered quite quickly saying “sounds wonderful.
Maybe, since we just had philosophy in school, we could read it together and
discus it as we go along.”
James was quite surprised by the idea but he went along
with it. “Ok when?”
“We could negotiate tomorrow in school.”
Forty years later James was sitting in a bar across
the street from a theater, where he had just seen a play, enjoying a glass of
wine and listening to the piano that stood in the corner of the bar, when a
young man walked over to him and said: “Pardon me sir, I don’t like drinking on
my own. May I please sit down to your table and have a nice conversation with
you?”
“Yes you may, “said James politely, trying his best to
hide a pleased smile “but promise me this, you will read Plato, so you can also experience my side of this
conversation forty years from now. Because Plato has all the answers you are
looking for. Think about it!”