The courses came and went and the wine flowed with the topics, as Chris changed direction or deferred to a guest who had an observation on an altogether different slice of life. Spontaneity had a place at the table, too.
“They’re not teaching handwriting in school anymore,” observed one of the young parents, shocked at her own recent discovery. “Cursive will be a lost art.”
What are we losing if no one learns handwriting?
What about the connection between hand, heart, and the creative soul?
Someone had read an article about how handwriting influences reading, writing, and language; soon several of us plunged into a discussion about the virtues of analog relics like pen and paper, hard copy, and real books. Each of us came at the discussion from our own perspective, and each expressed a slightly different view. But everyone seemed to agree in the end that those mindless handwriting exercises actually served a purpose, forcing us to slow down and write between the lines—an enduring gift, perhaps, in an age of digital transience.
It was time for coffee, dessert, and that email question that Chris had sent the night before.
What is not obvious that just blows you away?
We’d all had time to think about it and the answers were all over the map. New technology for the disabled, said one person. Drones, suggested another. But it was Pradeep’s answer that drew everyone in: Air-conditioning.
Air-conditioning?
Yes, said Pradeep. He had recently visited his ancestral village in the state of Tamil Nadu in southern India. He was born and lived there until he was six or so, when he moved with his parents to the United States. His village was a small, remote place of maybe 10,000 people. A few streets passed through the village, crossing near the big temple in town. One of those roads then went down to the river. For centuries the economy revolved around rice, bananas, and mangoes. Lush and deep green, the place had always been defined by its oppressive heat, often exceeding 100 paralyzing degrees.
“I remember in my childhood you would not leave the house during huge chunks of the day,” Pradeep told me later. “Maybe inside you had a fan, but outside it was 100 and you wouldn’t be able to do anything.”
He’d visited periodically as he was growing up and through his college years, but, until his recent visit, he hadn’t been back in fifteen years. He found the changes amazing—an explosion of roads, cars, construction, and smartphones. And that not-so-obvious thing that he now realized had made such a difference was air-conditioning. Air-conditioning meant the place could be tamed, the environment modified. There were now cool spaces where people could work, study, and linger. Yes, Pradeep told us, the air-conditioning that we so take for granted in much of the world had made his ancient village habitable and transformed a way of life that had remained basically constant for thousands of years. Sure, there was still poverty. But this village was morphing from an isolated, subsistence backwater to a modernizing, connected community.
Pradeep’s story enthralled us. He made it personal and real. We learned about him and his ancestral home. He spoke of human progress and connected us to a place no one else had seen. We shared his amazement and discovery. He made us care about his little village and, yes, air-conditioning.
The evening concluded with enthusiastic praise for great food, remarkable conversation, and the new friends we’d made around the table. Chris had been a deft host, dishing up ideas and questions that engaged the room, took us around the world, and got everyone talking. Chris made dinner an event.
You’re On!
Good hosts are always on, always listening, and always interested in their guests and the conversation around them. Their curiosity roadmap reveals their interest in people, places, and ideas. Jimmy Fallon, Ellen DeGeneres, Anderson Cooper, and Terry Gross are powerful personalities themselves, but their first job is to draw out other people and make them interesting, funny, or noteworthy. They ask their guests to contribute new ideas or interesting experiences.
If you’re the host, prepare accordingly. Adopt a strategy that creates the event you want. If you want a fun, free-flowing evening, roll out some questions that tap into the easy currents of daily life. Make them open-ended and friendly questions. Ask about the new restaurant, the local football team, or the new Leonardo DiCaprio movie. If you want be sure everyone participates, try throwing out a question with a challenge: Each person has to answer in just one sentence.
What’s one thing you want everyone to know about you?
If you could transport yourself anywhere in the world right now, go to any country just to eat dinner, where would you go and what would you eat?
Tagine in Morocco? Pho in Vietnam? Ugali in Kenya? Sounds amazing. What does it taste like? How do they make it? Have you actually been there? Now you’ve got everyone’s mouth watering and imaginations going and a roomful of Anthony Bourdains!
By applying a little “conversation leadership” to get people interacting, you can create an environment that is inclusive, interesting, and dynamic. You can host over dinner or at the beach, at the game or in the office. A few well-placed questions will jump-start a conversation. The more you ask, the more you get. You decide what and how much you want to serve up.
The ingredients for this recipe are readily available and require just a little preparation. Start with a few topics that you know interest everyone. Have a few unexpected subjects you’ll mix in as you go. Mix it up with a few lighter, open-ended questions. Listen closely.
Your friend just returned from southern Africa. It was her first time visiting there. She saw the scenery, traveled to Robben Island, and visited Victoria Falls. Your questions, like her travels, reflect different facets of the experience, different levels of awareness.
What did you see?
What surprised you?
How did it affect you?
Daria volunteers at a food bank and feels strongly about the new homeless shelter the city wants to build. Some think it’s necessary but others believe it will attract more homeless people. Ask Daria about her experience and what she thinks about this issue that now divides the community.
What is our obligation to the homeless?
What about the neighbors?
What do the homeless people you know have to say about this?
John loves to camp in the Rockies. He once went for two weeks. Alone.
Why alone?
Any moose join you for dinner?
What do you think about in such solitude?
Ask for different levels of experience and awareness. Decide where and how far you want to go. Start with an open-ended question, then ask about examples and encourage stories. Make room for reflection, humor, and emotion.
Supper with Socrates
If you want to play the ultimate question game and challenge friends and family to look for shadows on the wall of what they believe, invite Socrates to supper. A philosopher and a teacher, his famous line of inquiry is as provocative today as it was 2,400 years ago when he turned his questions on his students. You won’t have to drink hemlock, but be prepared to challenge people to question their knowledge and their assumptions, to the very core of what they believe.