Harboring undocumented Europeans

We will have two undocumented immigrants arriving at our home tomorrow night. They will spend a large part of the next three weeks with us. They will travel across our border by air and pass through our Customs, but they come from an unfriendly country called France and have been known to speak unkindly of our president, sentiments they may express while in our custody.

I have warned them to avoid upsetting the enforcers of the Patriot Act, which could lead to Guantanamo Bay, as well as any encounters with local law because our mayor is protecting us by exposing illegals accused of serious crime. Since we don’t have a specific list of such crimes, being French may qualify, so discretion would seem to be wise.

I’ll keep a careful eye on our dear friends, Howard and Francoise Appel, whom we haven’t seen for two years and have missed sorely. They live in a 15th century condominium in the south of France, near a town called Gordes. Sherry and I have spent many glorious weeks there over the years, introducing the wonders of peanut butter to the local cuisine, trying to find a local merchant who sells the International Herald-Tribune so I can get the baseball scores, making periodic runs to the wine filling station and exploring other wonders of life in Provence.

We always prowl the traveling market at a nearby town for exotic olives, picnic below a waterfall on a lovely river, visit Howard’s latest ancient church discoveries (when they are empty, of course) along with such local artifacts as Roman bridges and a massive monument to James Dean that never made it to the site of his fatal car accident where it was supposed to be erected.

When the Appels visit here, we expose them to neighborhood block parties, pay our respects at the Huntington Gardens, picnic on the beach, sample local theater and read the letters to the editor in the Pilot. Although they ? thank God ? have no interest in Disneyland or Knott’s Berry Farm or Universal Studios, we have tried ? repeatedly and unsuccessfully ? to get them to an Angels ball game or to the race track. Howard’s elitist attitude is the problem here. This time, the Angels will be mostly out of town during the Appels’ visit, but we have a secret plan to get Francoise to Santa Anita.

All of these activities, however, are marginal divertissements. What we do mostly is talk. And we’ll be as full of it on getaway night as we were on arrival day.

Perhaps the greatest wonder of close friendships is the inexhaustibility of substantive talk. Although there are still some surprises, we pretty well know ? or can predict with reasonable accuracy ? where our guests will come down on a given subject. There is always comfort in finding like minds in a growingly divisive world, but we aren’t just talking to ourselves in these conversations. We’re exploring edges and nuances. And we’re being forced to define our own feelings by articulating them. In that process we sometimes surprise ourselves.

It occurred to me as I look forward to this talk that there are certain unwritten rules about such conversation that we observe without consciously defining.

First and foremost, no subject is out of bounds. This is possible because we are never trying to make gaming points or show up someone else or inflict hurt or expand our egos. In good conversation, those motives would be counter-productive.

Conversation is a two-way street. It’s impossible without listeners. And finding good listeners in random groups is seldom a given. More likely is the group-speak where every member is waiting for a pause to break into the conversation and turn its focus on himself.

In real conversation, we listen because we care about what the speaker is saying, and we respond in kind. Anything less is a series of speeches, not a conversation.

We also take turns. This is a natural, not a mechanical process. Nobody is holding a watch on a speaker. But any imbalance gets corrected over time.

We don’t get restless about our own needy topics because we always have the assurance they will eventually be aired.

But the more urgent matters are recognized and dealt with first. Unfortunately, George W. Bush and Iraq have together usurped this category. The only good likely to come from this is forcing us to see how the incoherence of anger can very quickly destroy conversation.

There are some marginal conversational gambits that can be tolerated as long as they are properly recognized. The most common is talking to one’s partner on delicate topics during conversation with close friends. This takes two forms. First, there is unpleasant news not yet shared that you introduce in group conversation in the hope of softening reaction in your partner and possibly getting some sympathy from the disinterested parties you are using as a sounding board.

Then there is dropping into conversation a matter on which you and your partner are deeply divided. The expectation here is that your rational position will be supported unknowingly by your unsuspecting listeners. This doesn’t always work, and when it does it tends to aggravate the other party ? a risk that needs to be weighed.

But that’s all ahead of us. We’ll let our French friends sleep in on the first day since they’re taking the red eye from Paris. Then we’ll be off and running. We’ll miss the neighborhood egg hunt because we’re booked into a brunch in Malibu with a host who is also an old friend and knows the conversational rules. And isn’t predictable.

After that, we’ll hunker down and try to keep our immigrant friends out of harms’ way. And talk.