Big John strolled through the front door of the diner and tossed his ball cap onto the circular table, in the middle of the diner — with a nonchalance that wasn’t usually his.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began – which got everyone’s attention, because he rarely does that. “If you take a picture of yourself, it’s called a ‘Selfie’. If you take a picture of me, is it called a ‘Youie?’”

Tommy Jones, the elder member of the Circular Congregation Breakfast Club, put down his fork and looked toward Harrison Winkle for an explanation of Big John Hudson’s comment. “Does that mean something?”

“Depends on who you ask,” mumbled Harry without putting down his fork. “To me, it doesn’t mean a thing.”

The matter would have been dropped right then and there if Jimmy hadn’t thrown his seventeen cents worth into the conversation. “I asked a young lady, once, about why kids keep taking pictures of themselves and posting them on that brick wall thing.”

“Pink Floyd?” asked Firewalker, looking up quickly from his ham and eggs, seeking clarification on Jimmy’s rambling.

“Facebook,” he explained, “Why do they keep putting pictures of themselves, and whatever they are eating, on Facebook? Of course, I figured it out after she explained it to me.”

Jimmy is known for his ability to ascertain, hitherto unknown, information and then sit back and wait for someone to beg him to impart his special knowledge. The conversation usually starts out with, “Of course you know about…” and is followed by something curious, but unnecessary to know, such as, “…the real meaning behind the phrase, ‘shoot yourself in the foot.’”

He then waits patiently until curiosity finally gets the better of someone around the table and the question is finally asked, “What is that supposed to mean?” This opens the triviality valve and out spews a twenty minute dissertation on something no one really cares about. However, his lectures are usually filled with just enough questionable details, causing all of the members of the Breakfast Club to wade into the intellectual morass and argue points about topics of which they know little and could care less.

“People don’t talk to each other anymore. They talk to machines, and the machines talk to the other people. They have to send pictures so the other people can remember who they are talking to.”

“Hmm,” grunted Harry, still not putting down his fork. It was Harry’s favorite, short but staccato sharp, noncommittal grunt. He uses it when he has something to say but doesn’t want to bother with saying it. He knows no one is always right – but, just as importantly, no one is always wrong. Therefore, he decided to not argue the point because Jimmy might actually be right on this one, and he didn’t want to have to say it out loud.

“They use words that aren’t even words,” groused Arnold Tobin. “What does ‘LOL’ and ‘LMAO’ mean? Those aren’t words.

“Kids these days should learn how to speak the English language,” offered Big John, who had remained unusually silent since starting up this fracas. “They should use words that mean something.”

“Like ‘Groovy’ and ‘Far-Out’,” offered Firewalker, in between bites of ham.

“Or ’23-Skiddo’ and ‘Jorum of Skee,’” agreed Tommy.

The table fell silent – which is quite easy for an inanimate object, but very difficult for the participants surrounding this table. Finally, the mute button was reset. Jimmy had fallen prey to his own ploy, “What does that mean?”

“Hmm?” questioned Harry once more trying to distance himself from anything that might sound like being in agreement with Jimmy.

“Go look it up on that Bingle, or Yahoogle, or Giggle thingy they’ve got on that internet gismo,” chuckled Tommy as he went back to his eating his corn meal mush, ensconced in warm butter and maple syrup.

 

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.