We exchanged pleasantries but now it was time to trade necessities. I had my explanations in my pocket. I pulled her answers from near my breast and straightened my tie.
She looked at me with astonishment. “You made a list?” she interrogated. “Well I wanted to be sure I had a complete answer,” I vindicated. “You made a list?” she accused. “Yeah, I gave this serious thought,” I excused. “Couldn’t you just tell me your answer instead of reading it to me?” she sighed. “Sure but I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget anything,” I conceded. I sat my resource near my plate. My blush matched the shade of her cheeks. There’d never be an about face. We’ll never make up.
I felt ashamed of my behavior as I walked away. I had the slip of paper in my pocket yet I don’t understand why it was considered a slip-up. I don’t understand why someone asks me for an answer or presents his petition and then mocks the completeness of my response. Am I not supposed to offer the issue the proper consideration? Am I not supposed to offer him a complete thought? Am I supposed to simply spit out a yes or a no?
I’m committed to my conversations with my companions and occasionally I commit my comments to paper. But, I rarely write letters. I have typed one letter in the last year. I’m more the type to send breezy emails. But emails merit less consideration and carry more merriment. I’ll write an email to remind a man he’s not alone, but I’ll compose a letter. Yet I’ll stand by each of my words in all mediums. I chose each word because I thought the relationship merited the effort. I’m always surprised that the recipient doesn’t feel he’s worth my effort. Of course the pinnacle of my affection is a handwritten note. It’s rare and it’s my gift. I avoid cursive writing with the same ardor I avoid feminist poetry. 
I have note cards with the word peace on the face. And if I send that card, then I consider us as close as brothers and I wanted to share a piece of my peace with my brethren.
I think too many people graze through life like cows in a meadow. They move their mouths along the surface with intention to feed and then they graze toward a new patch of grass. I think of each encounter as a moment of time in the synchronicity of Divinity. And I take the time to offer my time. I try to treat each being as an equitable participant in the process of life. I’ll utter a joke or a quip but I’ll ruminate on a consideration because I try to be considerate. Is that too much to give? Sometimes it is. But which human beings deserve less? Count the people you pass each day and then justify loneliness.
There must be a balance between a declaration and an utterance. Society evolved from the parlor to the porch and from the written word to the spoken call in the twentieth century. Now we’re evolving toward the typed message. And as we travel more and move further, I wonder why our conversations embrace brevity and the content is confined to mere levity. As we distance ourselves geographically, we’re distancing ourselves emotionally.
Yet we embrace familiarity with strangers as we shun the familial with our fraternity. That can’t be progress. If my emotions and considerations can be confined to three words without vowels – then I’m not even grazing the surface. I’m spending all my time on one blade of grass.
I’m not suggesting that we pull out all the stops and make endless lists of our ruminations, explanations and justifications. I’m just saying that I don’t think friendship demands we offer our companions the benefit of the doubt. I’m stating that true agape exists when there isn’t a doubt. And although I’ll receive doubtless condemnations of these considerations, I’m doubtful that I’ll cease my practice of living my life completely, entirely, and without omissions. If I’ve omitted an essential piece of information, it’s because I ran out of the spit to moisten my mouth or to seal the envelope and not because I ran out of intention to give a fellow human being my full attention.
October 15, 2007
