Dangling conversations

July 7, 2015
Dangling conversations

The Apostle writes (1 Corinthians 7) –

He that is unmarried careth for the things that belong to the Lord, how he may please the Lord: But he that is married careth for the things that are of the world, how he 
may please his wife.

Translation: Better everyone be like me, for anything else is sadly less.

Though how could the Apostle know? He has no idea what it means to be married; and it’s not only that he hasn’t been but that he cannot imagine what anyone else is thinking or feeling – he’s never learned how, because he’s never cared. So, he doesn’t realize the effect of his diktat on the married, or attached, that he gives them permission to care only for the things of the world, since – the Apostle says so! – they are unable to care for anything else.

* * * * *

I was talking with Roz last night after a day of meetings. Across the room: I was half-reclined on the couch at one end, staring at the air; she was sitting in the chair in the corner under the lamp, reading.

     “It’s going to be good growing old with you,” I said.  She turned her book over on her lap, slid her reading glasses down her nose, and looked over them at me. “I find I like talk less and less, especially the kind that 
likes listening to itself,” I said.

      “Are you talking about your meetings today?”

                                                       I nodded. But, I was also talking about politicians, pundits, talk-show

 hosts and their guests, the self-absorbed subjects of TV reality shows, doctors, lawyers, and Apostles. I said: “I’m also talking about you, because you talk so relatively little, and you’re never trying to be clever.”

     “Thanks.” She drew in a breath. “I guess.”

     “No,” I said. “I like sitting here with you, even across the room, knowing you’re not rehearsing your next speech.”

     “Maybe I am, and I’m just inarticulate,” she said and stuck out her tongue – she can roll hers, I cannot. “See?” she said.
     (She can also tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue. I cannot. Inarticulate, hell!)