“I need some unconventional wisdom!” Big John Hudson clamored, as he lurched in through the front door of the diner, kicked the snow off his mukluks, and tossed his gloves on the big round table with the fervor of an aardvark during mating season. “Conventional wisdom isn’t working.”

Big John is well known, by the other members of the Circular Congregation Breakfast Club, for entrances that get conversations started.

“Conventional wisdom isn’t what it used to be,” snorted Tommy Jones, the most senior member of the congregation. “I remember when everybody had conventional wisdom.”

“You remember the last ice age,” laughed Harry Winkle as he sopped up his eggs-over-easy with whole wheat toast.

“Of course he does,” smirked Jimmy. “It was last winter.”

“Conventional wisdom is when someone comes up with an idea, holds a convention, and tries to talk a whole lot of other folks into also thinking it’s a good idea.” Harry could always be counted on for his astute observations. “Unconventional wisdom is being smart enough to leave the convention early.”

“Then what’s common sense?” challenged Firewalker in his most I-don’t-really-care tone of voice.

“Common sense is a rare gem,” offered Harry. Unfortunately, most people don’t get it until right after they need it.”

“If they get it at all,” added Arnold Tobin.

“Common sense is harder to come by than a Norwegian luau in January,” chimed in Jimmy.

“As rare as an albatross reunion,” agreed Arnold.

“As irregular as relatives paying back loans,” interjected Sal.

Thinking that perhaps the conversation might be well served by swerving back towards Big John’s original statement, Jimmy jumped back in, “What kind of unconventional wisdom are you looking for? The kind where you know the speed of light, but can’t figure out the speed of dark – or the kind where we explain women to you?”

“The speed of dark is calculated by taking the speed of light, which is 186,000 miles per second, and doing some kind of math in reverse. Explaining women is beyond the capabilities of any male at this table,” offered the always enlightened Hannibal King.

“Explaining women is beyond the capabilities of any male, anywhere,” mumbled Firewalker as he motioned to Sarah for a refill on his coffee.

“I’ll say,” Sarah responded, slightly under her breath and to no one in particular.

“Now, to be fair, men may not understand women…” began Hannibal.

“At all.” Sarah jumped in to finish Hannibal’s thought.

“But, I doubt that women really understand men, any better. Men eat and drink, chase women and don’t know what to do when they catch one, and think they have to fix everything but usually can’t.”

Sarah continued to fill the coffee cups as each member of the Congregation silently tried to find the flaw in her logic.

Now that would have been a good time for some unconventional wisdom, but none seemed to be forthcoming.

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.