A co-worker friend recently moved to a very posh sector of Kansas City - it's a certain wasteland of yuppie-dom in Johnson County, Kansas. Locals call it O.P., short for "Over-Priced" . . . or Overland Park . . . whichever - both are true appellations.
My friend has been less than satisfied with his upgrade. His biggest complaint is the complete absense of a Waffle House. I imagine there's some city code against nice people running dingy little time portals to 1975. He comes to chat with me on Saturdays over in redneckville where I work. If I can get off early we go to Waffle House (there are plenty of them over here), and he has some coffee.
We talk about a little of everything. This friendship is a very unusual one for me; over time I came to reject common associations as very likely opportunities for intellectual friendships, since so few people share an interest in truth. This fellow is different - he's a man of goodwill, and insofar as he accepts that there is truth, and recognizes that he is largely ignorant of it (a very Socratic trait), he is a philosopher. We sit in Waffle House and talk about philosophy, history, and society at large. It seems like a most unlikely place for such discussions, but I think that's part of what makes them so memorable.
I've been re-learning old lessons in love this week. Obsession #2 was rather downcast there for a while - he was treated like dirt by a prospective roomate, had two co-workers call in sick on him (leaving him babysitting the fishies for a good chunk of last weekend), and then his new car started smoking. On top of all the normal anxiety about moving out on his own and the general lack of sleep he was ready to snap, . . . and the only thing keeping that from happening was me and a sizeable chunck of e-g-o (of which he has always had a fair allottment).
I had to rediscover through experience some of those little things about womanly support which I had learned by indoctrination from my parents. In some ways the little feminine things are difficult for me - I'm a fighter by nature. When I happen upon these little things to say, and see how beneficial they are, I feel like I've found buried treasure. So, I'm thinking myself pretty accomplished right now. Maybe I'll really be able to do this wife thing pretty well after all. I'm so gol-derned independent sometimes . . . I have my little self-doubts. But I'm going to do my very best, dag nab it, and I guess that's all that really matters.
Well, anyhow, back to the ol' grindstone.
Love to you all,
Em
1 comment:
Hang in there Em, you'll be okay!
Not that you would ever doubt it, but I thought I ought to say something.
Nothing socks a man in the solar plexus like having his freedom go sour, that is, having his new car break, and having the world crash down upon his head, that is, having his coworkers crap out on him (only to be topped by having one's boss crap out on one).
Waffle houses are wonderful places to talk philosophy. I approve.
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