It’s a still life watercolor
Of a now-late afternoon
As the sun shines through the curtain lace
And shadows wash the room
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference, like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs
The borders of our lives
—Paul Simon
* * *
I used to think dangling conversations were regrettable. Now I realize they’re the only kind. Sure we might wish our conversation would end on a decisive meaningful note—just in case that was the last with a particular friend—but conversations never finish. They’re abandoned. They dangle.
Long time no see. Same. How are you? Good. And you? Good. Kids? Good. Grandkids? Good. Yours? Good. You’re looking good. You too. Whatcha been up to? Nothing really. A few doctor appointments. Me too. Aging sucks. True that. But it beats the alternative. For sure. I’m watching The Pitt on HBO. Things could be worse. Speaking of The Pitt, did I tell you I saw the Pittsburgh Pirates at spring training? Cool. I wonder if there’ll be an MLB work stoppage. Don’t know. Actually, I’m more worried about gas prices. That damn war’s not helping. That guy gets away with murder. Cuba’s next. Speaking of Cuba, did you see that the Venezuela baseball team beat the US in the World Baseball Classic? Didn’t see that, but I did watch the Oscars. I miss Paul Newman. I miss Diane Keaton. Man, we’re old. Do you think the theater’s really dead? Lots of empty seats.
Hey guys. What’s up? The usual. Inflation. Unemployment. Blood pressures. I heard your son lost his job. Yes. Sad. Oops. Hate to leave on that grim note, but Tony’s waving at me over there.
And so it goes. Conversations flit about like hummingbirds or squirrels.
Out of the blue last week, Paul Simon’s “The Dangling Conversation” popped into my head. Strange. But these things happen. Repeatedly.
While musing on dangling conversations, “dangling prepositions” popped into my head, and then just like that, an oldie but goodie popped in too:
A West Virginian arrives for his first year at Harvard. He asks an upperclassman: Excuse me. Can you tell me where the library’s at?
Listen up, pal, said the upperclassman. Here at Harvard we speak proper English. We do not end a sentence or a question with a dangling preposition!
So sorry, replied the West Virginian. Let me rephrase that. Can you tell me where the library’s at, asshole?
And that’s the way this post ends. Abandoned, not finished. Dangling.
One of my favorite jokes. I first heard it from Stanley Hauerwas (yes, I’m a name-dropper), a Texan.
Conversations, whether dangling, superficial or deep, are vital for human connection. They are touch points in our need for each other, to be seen or heard or listened to. Ah, a dangling preposition!
Yes! Vital! Thank you. 🙏🏼
Not only conversations, but our lives also dangle. We’re out there in life until one day, suddenly, we’re not; and so it goes. I’ve always heard, “It’s all be said and done.” That’s right… Except by me. Everyone tends to take themselves too seriously. Especially the three of us; Me, myself, and I.
good morning, Randy. Thank you. Always. What intense times! Dangling conversations are welcomed, sometimes. I actually have many conversations around here. This place is a cammunity.of conversation. Many stories to be had in a day. Bird song is my favorite conversation these days. Shepherdstown, Good Town. Hi everyone vistiing Randy’s blog.
Meetings might achieve agreement or consensus or disagreement.
Conversations aren’t supposed to end with action. Conversations are the sinew of love and family, friends and allies.
Sounds like its time for, “My Dinner with Andre.”
I hope this Rilke poem opens for you! And thank you, Randy–because your thoughts opened something unexpected in me this morning. Just prior, via email, I got news that an extraordinary friend, an almost other-worldly touch healer, lost her beloved brother to suicide. Unimaginable–the brother’s pain, my friend’s grief. A thought that entered through the door of a knowing heart reminded me that even a dangling conversation contains the irreplaceable golden thread of connection that can ease distance, longing, regret… I believe it was Wordsworth who wrote, “I am part of all that I have met.” Conversations do often “dangle” — and maybe are ‘grammatically modified’ by the locking eyes and the smiles that leave eternal memories.
https://www.reddit.com/r/Poetry/comments/vgi4bb/poem_put_out_my_eyes_rainer_maria_rilke_transl_by/
“…flitting about like hummingbirds or squirrels…” conversations – sharing what’s on your mind; what’s in your heart – as time & place & circumstance unfold… underneath the words (usually a subtext) dangling “I love you’s” & a few “do you love me’s” – like salt & pepper for the repast!
❤️🎶
BTW: Emily Dickinson & Robert Frost both dangled in early poetic moments of my childhood – thanks for the great song reminder Randy, as well as your thots here…
“Good communication is as stimulating as black coffee and just as hard to sleep after.”
Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Conversations, dangling or otherwise, stick with me, and when they occur with good friends, even if we don’t see one another for years, we seem to pick up where we left off. Some questions and topics dangle for decades, but conversations about them help them age with deeper texture and flavor. Thanks for another post that stirs some good memories and causes me to plan a Zoom call with some friends who live far away.
My mother always responded to a dangling preposition like the one you quoted with,
“It’s behind the At!”