Somebody at the next table talks about expressing opinions.  He’s got an English translation of the I Ching, well-worn, sitting beside him.  He mentions that at some point, you can be a hero or a holy sage.  I think about that and wonder outloud if there’s a third choice.  He doesn’t think so; everything is either “hero” or “holy sage”.  I’m not sure what that means but I don’t feel as though I fit into either category.

He talks about writing; that is, recording his opinions.  He has a limited network, he says, in response to my asking to whom he’ll be expressing his views.  I’m still thinking outloud when I say, “No limits, really,” and he says, “what?” and I realize he’s accidentally heard my thoughts.  I tell him, “The internet,” and we both smile knowingly.

It occurs to me that I’ve reached the stage in life when I have random conversations with strangers across tables at restaurants.  I’m not sure I like that.  But the man is speaking again.  He’s explaining that he wants to write to express his opinion because he’s lived a lot longer than a lot of people.  “The power of positive reinforcement,” he says.  I think:  I’ve missed a segue, but I smile, because I certainly believe in positive reinforcement, though somehow, I’m not sure that we have the same idea of what the concept means.

I finish dinner, close my laptop, and look around.  There are children with their parents, husbands and wives, and a few people, like me, who’ve stopped into this place on their way home to their dogs.  I decide that I don’t need another cup of coffee, and that I’m nobody’s hero and certainly not a holy sage.

But I’m quite ready for a little positive reinforcement.