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 19^th 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 12^th 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!”