Improving On Silence

"Hey there, I'm Bob," said the man in the blue shirt, extending a hand.

Tim shifted his drink to his left hand so he could shake Bob's.  "Tim."

"You get dragged here by your wife too?"

"Oh.  Yeah.  She likes these sorts of gatherings."

"Mine too.  She's always saying we should get more involved with our neighbors, we should get out and mingle.  Personally, I'd rather be home watching the game."  He sipped from his drink.  "How about you?"

"Well…I'm not much for talking to people, you know?  I mean, I guess my old man always taught me: if you don't have anything intelligent to say, then just keep your mouth shut."

"I heard that, I can't stand parties where people just stand around around glad-handing and rambling on about stuff they don't understand.  And from here, it looks like that's what most of these people here are doing."

"Yeah."

"We're still pretty new here.  Do you know many of these people?"

Tim pointed to quartet of older men in sport coats who were laughing heartily together.  "That's Glen, Brad, Jake and…Greg, I think.  They're here all the time, but all they want to do is talk about golf."

"Don't you golf at all?"

"Oh sure, once in a while, but I'm not an expert or anything, so I have nothing to say.  I mean, I figure they all know more about it than I do, so I just don't bather trying to join the conversation."

"Ah.  Well, who's the really loud lady with the sparkly shoes?"

Tim glanced towards where Bob was pointing.  "That's Cindy Schwimmer, and her husband Kirk.  They're both in real estate, and always want to talk about home values and how the market is doing.  I never feel comfortable talking with them.  The guy they're with is also kind of new, his name's Derek I think.  He retired from the Army a few years ago, did several tours in Iraq."

"I bet he's got some stories to tell, huh?"

"Sure.  But how do you talk to a guy like that?  I mean I've never been in the military, I'm an upholsterer.  What the hell do I know about military service?  I just listen politely and keep my mouth shut."

"Okay, what about that guy?" he asked, pointing to a tall man with a beard.

"That's Doctor Rosenthal, he's a heart surgeon.  Apparently he's kind of a big deal because he just developed some radical new form of surgery.

"What's so radical about it?"

"How should I know?  I'm no doctor, I figure that kind of talk is probably over my head, so I don't bother asking about it."

"I see.  Well…Who is the guy with the flag pin on his lapel?  He some sort of local politician?"

"Yeah, that's Dave Brubaker, he's an alderman.  But he's running for the state senate next month, so he always likes to show up at parties and shake hands and talk."

"Let me guess, you don't like to talk politics?"

"Heck, no.  I'm just a regular taxpayer.  I've never been to law school, I don't follow the news, and I really have no idea what's involved with holding public office, so the best I can do is stay out of conversations like that."

"Uh huh.  Sports?"

"Oh I love sports.  But I'm not an expert or anything.  I just watch the games on TV and keep out of water cooler talk like that."

"Hmm.  You follow any shows?"

"I watch, but I don't really follow any of them.  People always like to argue about shows these days, but I figure it's really none of my business."

"Cars?"

"I don't know anything beyond how to drive them, so…you know."

"Travel?"

"I've never been anywhere worth mentioning, I guess."

"Music?"

"I'm just a dilettante, no real opinions there."

"The economy?"

"I mind my own business.  Literally"

"Global warming?"

"Doesn't really concern me.  I think both sides probably have good points."

"Art?"

"I never claim to understand art."

"Religion?"

"I keep my views to myself and live and let live."

Bob took a long pull on his drink.  As a last attempt he offered, "what about the education system?"

Tim's brows knitted together in a steely gaze of indignation as his mouth set in a hard, determined line.  "Bob, let me tell you all about what's wrong with teachers today…"