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Talk Is So Cheap Now You Can’t Even Give It Away
“A real conversation always contains an invitation. You are inviting another person to reveal herself or himself to you, to tell you who they are or what they want.” — David Whyte
First thing you should know about me is that I distrust glib people. You know: over-talkers, overexplainers, gossipy gits who love to dish the dirt and spread manure everywhere.
People who adore the sound of their own voice.
I probably was an over-talker when I was younger, but I’m older now. I don’t need to explain or tell you everything. I’ve become reserved. I measure my words out carefully. It just feels better at the end of the day.
It’s not that I don’t have something to say. These days I feel the old pull toward conversation — I ache for it, if that’s even possible. Some of my friends were the best conversationalists. They knew how to bring up an old subject deftly, or gingerly venture into new ground. One such friend was Mark Luebker, from the college I attended in 1981. I recall driving to Mark’s house late one night after a particularly troublesome college event — I think it was the awards night for the school paper, where I left…
