Grape Nuts Conversations

I once knew a man who used such big words that most people didn't know if his words identified him as friend or foe. One man followed him around with a dictionary, making a point of leafing hurriedly through Webster to figure out what he was talking about. My friend was so stern that people didn't dare tease him about his verbiage, but he knew that his volleys of multi-jointed words left people far behind. His mental dictionary was so set in place however, that he never changed. He continued to send out inexplicable missives full of obfuscatory circumlocution.

I loved Richard though. Every time he spoke, I learned something new--detailed shades of his experience and perspective. When I teased him, he would grunt, run his hands through his hair, and come back at me with some incomprehensible but affable response.

Love of words is something that has long been known in my family. My father used to cock his head to one side and say, "Indubitably!" in response to a question or comment by one of us. As a 10 year-old, one of my brothers used to stalk through the house chanting what were to him, big words: "Albatross!"
Using imprecise words that do not evoke any emotion is like painting a sunset in black and white."

Some people just don't use interesting language. Others just state facts, unadorned by any imagination, editorializing, or feeling. Hearing them talk is like eating Grape Nuts without anyting on it: tasteless, uninteresting, and without satiety of any kind. Their flat language makes it impossible for some of us abstract thinking ones to understand with any degree of clarity, what is being said or to desire to find out more about their observations. "Nuts and Bolts" coversation is what I call it. "Pass the salt." "How was your day?" "Oh. That's good." "I laughed when my boss fell up the steps." "What's happening?"

Those of us for whom using words is an artform, cringe if exposed to this kind of conversation for prolonged periods of time. Being with people who only talk facts can make me feel trapped and emotionally disengaged quite quickly. There is a world inside me of richness, subtle coloring, imaginative images, shades of vivid description--all of which is left untouched by common conversation.

This morning I had breakfast with a friend whose use of language is always stimulating, and whose ideas are always interesting. She colors her stories with descriptive words and emotional content that makes her narratives compelling. We often have very long conversations about numerous things. There are periods of silence during which one of us searches for just the right word to describe something critical. I think my best and most creatively around her because we mentally and emotionally go where I seldom can go with anyone else--because few people even know these places exist. I always come away with new ideas, a fresh perspective, and clarity of thought.

My friend, Paul, is also such a person. Our conversations are rarely confined to an hour. We have often gobbled up entire evenings as we shared thoughts, ideas, and our words. Paul grew up clear on the other side of the world, in completely different circumstances from mine. I lacked many of the things he had in his experience and vice versa, yet we find that there is no such thing as being in the same place for too long. I come away from our mutual sharing with new appreciation for my inner reality.

Some of us who are engrossed in words, feelings, and ideas have a hard time producing what the concrete thinkers would call "real products" because we are, as they would say, "distracted by what goes on" in our heads. That may be. But to live without that inner world would be a life grounded only in what can be seen, heard, touched, and experienced. It would be a life so tasteless as to be a test of endurance.

It is a rare person indeed, who can speak both the language of the concrete here-and-now, and the abstract far-and-away.