You never really know a person until you can sit down and have a long meal with them.  At least, that’s one of the best ways.  You can find out all sorts of things about a person by the way they conduct themselves when they’re busy eating.  It might sound a little creepy, like I like to watch people eat because I’m a sort of a spy.  In fact, I sometimes pretend I’m a spy during a dinner, especially if the conversation gets enormously boring and there’s nothing to do but make inferences about the way someone holds a fork.  There are some amazing things you can discover about a person in this way.  In New York, the restaurants are so good, that most people don’t think about how they eat because they’re so busy enjoying themselves.

The other night, however, I found myself lost in a conversation to the point where I didn’t make any of my usual observations.  He was an old friend I knew in high school, and we were meeting to catch up on our lives.  I imagined it would be the usual conversation about marriages, jobs, and kids, but he hadn’t really done any of those things.  After high school, he decided he was going to learn about the Druids, the living ones, and set out for adventures.  He’d traveled extensively in Ireland and Wales, and even part of France, and apparently got in touch with some people who taught him some very interesting things.

The funny part of this is, not only do I not remember much of the meal, I don’t even remember most of the conversation.  We must have sat for a good three hours, and I know he told me story after story.  I was amazed.  I remember being amazed.  I also remember that he did everything in series of threes.  He said it was all a part of it, and that was the correct way to begin an incantation.  He spoke about goddesses in trees, that much I know, but the rest, the rest is like a song.  It was a dinner that was just like a song, and at some point I guess I forgot to pay attention to the fork.