Breakfast Debate

(For a newer draft of this story, click here.)

Defiant birds were chirping at one another as two friends sat at a table on a diner’s patio. A car, truck, or motorcycle drove by infrequently along the nearest strip of road.

“Odd isn’t it? Most people would think this place doesn’t exist in the morning,” Tom observed.

Earl examined his friend’s countenance, trying to decipher any clues as to the sentiment behind the remark. “Yeah,” he eventually responded.

“Sad isn’t it?” Tom pressed before taking a sip of his black coffee. “What this place has become, I mean.”

“Oh, sure. I guess.” Earl paused to think the question over. “Well, maybe. I guess these places lose some of the aura they have about them, like theaters in between shows or uh…ball parks in the winter.”

“Exactly. Sad, but good though. It’s for the best we know.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean at least we aren’t deceived about it like the tourists are. I…” A diesel truck boomed past the eatery. “I mean what would change if we all saw theaters being cleaned up with the lights on?”

“There’d be more disaffected children probably. They’re the ones who are usually duped. The tourists though, they just don’t think about it. They come here for the night life. But kids—places for children are more special because they don’t make the same assumptions as adults.” Earl rubbed his temples and raked his greasy morning hair with his fingers. “Kids don’t figure everywhere has a cleaning crew. They just figure theaters are ready to play moves anytime.”

“But that’s not right. It’s a bad habit that starts young maybe, the acceptance of ignorance,” Tom lamented.

“It’s not so bad. What’s wrong with a little make-believe.?”

“It’s make-believe that’s turning this place into a knock-off Las Vegas. People come down here to make-believe they’re in someplace where they are automatically impressive.” Tom looked out at the end of the strip. It was illuminated by streaks from the freshly rising son. The dimples and cracks in the weathered pavement made the faded asphalt look like elephant skin. “A lot of places would probably shrivel up and die if people knew what they looked like when they weren’t being what you think of them as.”

“Maybe it depends on the sort of place. What places are you thinking of?”

“Take your pick of one of the places up and down here,” Tom said gesturing towards the street with his chin. “That place, for example.” Tom’s finger indicated a rectangular building up the way. It was covered with white siding that grew green in places. The two windows on the front were covered with alcohol advertisements from inside. Banners with speed boats, white sand beaches, and bottles of beer draped over much of the white siding. The tired red awning trapped some of the morning rays. “It doesn’t look so great now without the neon signs. Nothing automatic about it. You’re as much of a dope walking in as walking out. More so even.”

“No. It doesn’t look so hot.” Earl raised his mug to try to get the attention of the waitress who was sitting inside talking with an old man wearing a khaki cap. She nodded to him in acknowledgement and began the process of breaking off the conversation. “But you have to admit unflattering light could ruin a lot of good reputations—of places and people.”

“Yeah.”

“So a bar at sunrise may burst a few bubbles, but so would showing kids what’s behind the puppet show set.”

“Right.” Tom and Earl watched the brown stream fill their mugs as the waitress tipped the coffee pot. Earl looked up at her and smiled with gratitude. She grinned meekly and left without saying a word.

“Knowledge doesn’t solve everything, Tom. I can tell you’re frustrated by this atmosphere, but some people walk off cliffs with eyes wide open, you know? Just adding information to this recipe won’t make it sweeter.”

“Yeah. It just makes sad to think about what this town makes money off of.”

“Most towns do the same.”

“I suppose.”

“If you closed down all the bars and strip joints and all the other ‘dens of inequity,’ there’d be a lot more hungry people out there—kid’s too. Some people make good livings bartending.”

“That doesn’t make it right, Earl.”

“No, of course not. It just makes it complicated.”

Tom took a swig of his hot coffee as Earl swirled the creamer into his. “I appreciate your frustration, though. It’s not easy for me coming back here either.” Earl added.

“Yeah,” Tom replied with a hollow voice. He rubbed away a drop of coffee that had dripped onto the wooden table. Almost on cue, the flow of traffic increased with the eight o’clock hour.

“Do you think ignorance is bliss, Earl?”

“It can be.”

“No it can’t! It never can.”

“How do you figure?”

“A person can feel…undisturbed in a state of ignorance, but that’s not bliss. Bliss is more than that.”

“Sounds blissful to me.”

“Then blissful and bliss aren’t the same.”

“Adjectives and nouns aren’t the same, no, but they’re related.”

“Not identical.”

“Most of the time they’re indistinguishable. How are you going to tell the difference between a blissful person and a person in bliss? How would you know in your own case?”

Tom slightly wrinkled his nose. “Well, I guess there’s…Are you just being a contrarian here or do you really value stupidity this much?”

“Who said anything about stupidity? We’ve been talking about ignorance.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Ignorance is a lack of knowledge. Stupidity is an inability to acquire it.”

“Ah. So all stupid people are ignorant, but not all ignorant people are stupid.”

“That sounds right.”

“Hm. Well, that’s all fine and well—but it’s besides the point. Why are you defending ignorance so much?”

“Because you’re so offended by it.”

“And?”

“And I don’t like seeing my old friend so upset.”

“You’ve got an odd way of calming people down.”

“What? Setting them straight?”

“Straight? Hm. And I though you liked brokenness.”

“There you go confusing ignorance with stupidity again. You Tom, for instance, are not stupid. You’re so far away from it you’re in danger of being ignorant. Some things you know, some things you should know, some things you can’t know, and some things you shouldn’t know. Wisdom is in putting the information in the right boxes.”

“And some things you don’t know.” Tom reminded.

“Right. Of course. But you know so many things that you’ve developed a skewed view of knowledge. Knowledge, in general, is not going to make this world a better place all by itself.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it’s not. All knowledge is good because everything is related, if only distantly. It’s like…it’s like gravity, you know? Every body has a gravitational pull on every other body in the universe, no matter how small it is. It’s the same with learning. Learning is always going to make you a better person. It’ll keep you out of bars.”

“Buddy, knowing how to bake a cake doesn’t make you a better driver and knowing what’s a waste of time doesn’t make you any more industrious. That’s got more to do with emotions and motivations…personal history and the like. Character. It’s not as simple as just proving to people the vice is a vice.”

“You’re wearing me out, Earl.”

“Good. Maybe then you’ll give this preoccupation of yours a rest and you’ll try to have a nice weekend despite all the debauchery around you.”

“Hm. So if I just don’t think about what’s wrong with everything down here, I’ll have a better time.”

“Yep.”

“Sounds blissful.”

The waitress returned with a pen in her hand. Her faded brown hair twitched in the breeze.

Earl spoke into his menu. “I’ll have the uh…biscuits and gravy with sausage.”

Tom looked into the waitress’s brown eyes. “Oatmeal, please. No raisins.”