Conversations with Strangers in Coffee Shops?

I stand before you today to announce a great and newly discovered truth: that it is possible to have an interesting and useful conversation in a coffee shop. With a stranger. Do you think I am exaggerating? Consider just one feature of this conversation: it was 10 or 15 minutes before he fell back on the old 'Soooo, whar ya frum?' If you wanted to be scientific about it, you could easily correlate how late that question arrives with the interesting-ness of the person. I am used to it being the second thing out of their mouths, and I have been known to literally groan out-loud when it happens.

But maybe you are going to tell me that this kind of thing happens to you all the time, and the fact that it has never happened to me is my own fault. Indeed, it is easy to misjudge people. Perhaps I don't ask people who look sufficiently available, are the right age, or are displaying the right body language. Perhaps they take one look at me and say, "How could such an over-opinionated know-it-all who can't keep his trap shut have such a nice dog?"

But there is another explanation: the art of conversation is no longer valued much in our society. Nor do we agree on formal rules that make conversation easier. The notion of "good breeding" or "gentlemanly" behavior has disappeared. Nor does the average blockhead know about much, or care about much, other than their job, television shows, celebrity gossip, daily chores and drudgery, Facebook trivia, etc.

This fellow was so facile. He quickly divined our common denominator: that we both drive old Ford Econoline vans. After I boasted that mine would soon hit 250,000 miles, he mentioned that his had 480,000 miles on the original engine and transmission. We then went on to methods of extending the life of a vehicle, the characteristics of a good mechanic, and his plans for converting his van for extended stays in the Arizona desert in winter.

But it wasn't in the list of topics that the magic lay. It was something more ineffable, at least at first. I think it was the back-and-forth between concrete (and well selected) details and generalities. We leaned one direction or the other at any given time, but then we flipped in the opposite direction. Perhaps this is almost a definition of intellectually healthy thinking.

Somebody who is addicted to easy theories might wait for two honest data points, draw a straight line between them, and then induce a universal law. I see no reason to be so cautious. After all I might not live to my next interesting conversation with a stranger.

So then, here is my grand and mighty conclusion based on one data point: he was an artist. Perhaps they get in the habit of dancing between concrete illustrations and general ideas, and then carry that habit into other parts of their lives.