Turning on a Dime

I went to Russ’s house for dinner last night, like I do every Monday.

There’s nothing particularly unusual about our Monday nights. We eat. We talk. We solve some of the world’s problems and create a few new ones. And somewhere during dinner last night, I realized one of the reasons I love spending time with Russ so much.

Our conversations turn on a dime.

There is no smooth, predictable ride. We’ll be having a heartfelt conversation about something important, and then one of us will make a completely inappropriate comment. Suddenly, we’re laughing so hard we’ve forgotten what we were talking about.

Fifteen seconds later, one of us says something unexpectedly tender, and now we’re both sitting there on the verge of tears.

Then somebody remembers something from 30 or 40 years ago. That sends us down another road. We start talking about people we knew, places we went, things we loved, things we lost. One memory sparks another, which brings up something we’re still angry about. That leads to a passionate debate. Then somebody says something surprisingly thoughtful, and suddenly we’re both quiet.

Five emotions in five minutes.

And I love every minute of it.

I realized last night that these dinners remind me of the best holiday gatherings from my childhood. The ones where everybody stayed around the table long after the food was gone. People told stories. Somebody laughed too loudly. Somebody got offended. Somebody remembered Uncle So-and-So doing something ridiculous in 1968. Somebody brought up a subject they shouldn’t have. Somebody got sentimental. And before you knew it, everyone was laughing again.

Those conversations had movement.

They made you feel something.

This morning, I came across the video I’m sharing here. It’s only two minutes and 22 seconds long, and if you appreciate good storytelling, give it those two minutes and 22 seconds.

As I watched, I immediately thought about my Monday nights with Russ.

A good story does what a good conversation does. It takes you somewhere you weren’t expecting to go. You laugh, then something catches in your throat. You recognize yourself. You remember someone. Your mood changes. Your perspective shifts.

And perhaps there’s something worth protecting in all of this as we get older.

We spend a lot of time trying to make life easier. We want fewer complications, fewer arguments, fewer surprises, fewer things upsetting our carefully arranged days. There’s nothing wrong with wanting some peace.

But I don’t want so much peace that I stop being moved.

I want people around me who make me laugh until I’m ridiculous. I want conversations that occasionally piss me off. I want stories that remind me of people I haven’t thought about in years. I want someone to say something so unexpectedly kind that I have to look away for a second.

I want to turn on a dime.

Because perhaps the goal isn’t to become less emotional as we get older. Perhaps we get better at letting ourselves experience the whole range without getting stuck in any one place.

Laugh.

Remember.

Get angry.

Get sentimental.

Think.

Laugh again.

And when you find someone who lets you experience all five before dessert, keep your Monday nights open.