Jack Emerson by Michael Brent Jones
Chapter 14
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“You look like you’re waiting to ask a question,” Jack asked as I walked in.
“I talked with Beth yesterday at the diner.”
“How is she?”
“Good. She really is very nice.”
“She gets it from her mom.”
“She said you and her mom got the curiosity bug from your parents.”
“I would agree.”
“She said that curiosity can be starved or built on.”
“Well, unsullied curiosity of thought can be but curiosity of feeling or emotion is quite different.”
“How?”
“Good thoughts have no prerequisites. You can contemplate a thought you have heard another to have had, but one’s emotion is dependent on the ground work it is laid on top of. A good thought is always good, feelings and emotion have their time and their place. There is an order to their discovery that makes a great deal of difference. Loyalty and respect in a relationship should come before love and passion.”
“So you weren’t a fan of the sixties?” I asked with a laugh.
“It wasn’t how it has been painted. Anyway, was that what you were going to ask?”
“No, Beth said I should ask you about religion.”
“I just think there is more to life than I’m seeing right now.”
“Why do you think that?”
“There are some questions I cannot find answers to. Why do we love stories? Why do we want to share them? Why do we watch sunsets or look at the stars? Why do we want to share them? Why do we like to learn new things? Why do we like to teach others new things? Why do we want someone to talk to in hard times? Why do we feel better that somebody knows?”
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“We like stories because it teaches us how to dream, but that just leads to the question, why do we dream? And why do we like to dream? Well, you might say because it instills hope in us, but hope for what? I can’t imagine hope of preservation of our species.”
“I don’t know how I feel either about whether there is more to life, but what if dreaming is just mostly advanced planning for the future?”
“It’s just that.”
“What?”
“Best case scenario that’s mainly, or mostly the case in life. I could do a lot with a half answered question but I sure can’t settle with it.”
“Well neither side seems to have the complete answer.”
“I think that brings us to the nature of any argument.”
“Is this all-encompassing or just mostly the case?” I asked.
“It does have the potential to be completely right,” he replied.
“Well let’s hear it,” I encouraged.
“Well to start, most likely if there is an argument, the answer is probably not clear cut or simple.”
“Seems logical to me.”
“If both sides feel passionate about their answer, each must be tightly holding on to some amount of truth.”
“Umm…”
“It could be very small, but if there is any value to truth, which I believe there is, then no portion big nor small of truth can be insignificant.”
“I’ll give you that.”
“Okay, now if the picture or truth is split, then each has different parts of it. Some of the parts would have to be the same, otherwise both sides wouldn’t argue; if they both had different pictures, then they would be different things completely, and neither would try to consolidate the two.”
“I’m trying to follow… I guess that does sound right.”
“If either side had a big enough portion of the picture, they would be able to see precisely how the missing piece fit in. Since that is not the case, neither side could have a significant part of the picture.
Even the person with the bigger portion of the picture still couldn’t have more than half without knowing generally what the rest is. Every person should accept that we are all inherently at least a little bit wrong about everything we think we know.
We should never question whether we are wrong; rather in what way are we wrong.
Also we might as well warm up to the idea, that the person with whom we find ourselves arguing, might have some portion of the truth that we are looking for.
…hopeful we are looking for the truth, and not just support for our own opinion. So we should listen up and find the missing pieces, and fill in the picture.”
¶
There wasn’t much more we talked about. We did play a few games of chess. I think I am getting better, because I at least start to recognize my mistakes a few moves before it becomes obvious how bad they were. Hopefully soon I will be able to recognize them before I actually make them.
¶
Puzzle for the day:
There are four workers that each started on a January first of different years. The boss started each out at a dollar a week, and increased their salary a dollar a week each year. The worker who had worked the longest at the company saw all the money for all four salaries for that week and said, “That’s exactly three times more than five years ago. How long have they each been working there?
“The question seems like it has nothing to do with the information you gave… but I trust you.”
“It will make you think, that’s for sure.”
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Chapter 15
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Well, Journal, it was a fun sleepless night. I hope you enjoyed the story of Jack Emerson and Christopher. I would keep writing, but I have to get to class.
And don’t worry about me, sleep is overrated, well at least that is what I keep trying to convince my body. I probably will sleep through class again today. I really thought I was going to run out of pages before I had to go to class, but I guess pages won this one.
My boss once told me that I was a fifty year old trapped in a twenty year old’s body. I thought maybe she was right, I do feel like I belong in the nineteen twenties. But after writing this story tonight, I don't feel I really know much of life beyond my age now of twenty three, that’s probably for the better, I don’t want to spoil the surprise.
I did however relate to Chris, part of me wishes I would just take some time off and play in the snow.
Oh and by the way, the puzzles I wrote about were from my friend Bob. I partially blame him among others for why my mind is always racing; not that it wouldn't be otherwise, but he makes me think.
A puzzle for him I just thought of, ‘could the best chess game ever be anything but a draw?’
A fit rival and a well-played game wouldn't allow anything else.
Also another thing I should say, this Jack Emerson did not materialize is my mind just today. Most of what I just wrote, is what has been floating around in my head the last month or so.
I accumulate so many scrap pieces of paper, and backs of receipts with notes on them, that every once in a while I have to consolidate them into a story. You could say I compiled Mr. Emerson more than wrote him.
I just realized that writing does give me a glimpse of how I am feeling, to see my thoughts and feelings take on a personality or two.
I am writing and so I must be happy, that’s good to know. Whether I write or my stomach hurts is a crude way to understand my emotions, but I can see them now in Jack, Chris, Beth, Charley, and the young man with the pocket watch.
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To my future wife,
I hope this story helps somehow to better understand who I am. I think everyone has a Jack Emerson in them, and I can't wait to see what yours will be like.
-The Real Jack Emerson – whatever that means.
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P. S. If this has any purpose to anyone besides me, I would hope that is inspires someone to ask questions they had never thought of before, or return to old questions for which they never found answers.
P.S.S the answer to the last puzzle is six, seven, eight and nine years.