Wheaton’s Way

Isn’t it interesting how people’s opinions can differ so greatly about some things?

Many’s the time we think we know someone, and then – out of the blue – our love interest, with whom we saw ourselves spending the rest of our lives, announces that ‘Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2’ was a cinematic masterpiece.

I’m not saying that revelation alone would put the kibosh on the relationship, but it might have you reaching for the ‘pause’ button.

They always say that religion and politics are two subjects that should be avoided at social gatherings – particularly apt advice in the last few years, but always a good rule of thumb.

When my now-best friend Lynne first arrived on the island, fresh from the outspoken streets of Toronto, there was an interesting period of… acclimatisation, as I attempted to introduce her to local society.

The fun, beach volleyball-loving person I knew could turn into the captain of the debate team without warning. Someone would voice an opinion, and she was off – narrow of focus – with the fingertips and thumb of her right hand joining and darting, at intervals, like the beak of an angry heron towards her adversary.

After each of these wonderful evenings, I’d have The Conversation with her, turning it into a teachable moment (a phrase I’m beginning to loathe).

“Y’see, just because someone feels that way about hockey is no reason to make them wish they’d never been born… ”

She’s much more relaxed these days. I’m the one who loses patience faster.

Serenity now.

Pretty much any discussion can get heated, depending on the players involved.

I remember a few tense moments in a past happy hour conversation when two friends argued about Madonna’s contribution to the history of music. One thought she was a talentless hack and the other carried on like a member of Madge’s PR team.

I believe I was the instigator. I made some off-the-cuff comment about the early part of her career, and before I knew it, the ball had been wrenched from my hands and the two quarterbacks were going at it great guns.

Here’s an amendment to my earlier statement: Perhaps all subjects should be avoided at social gatherings when alcohol is being imbibed.

What was the famous line from ‘My Fair Lady’? Keep the conversation to the weather and everybody’s health? I dunno… with hurricane season and COVID, it seems that anything outside bunnies and rainbows is a hot potato.

Speaking of movies, Lynne and I usually agree on almost every film we watch. In fact, it was the common interest that launched our friendship about 30 years ago.

That being said, there has had to be some give-and-take along the way.

I’ve been breaking down her defences over time when it comes to ‘Three Amigos’, ‘The ‘Burbs’ and ‘The Survivors’.

Of that trio, only ‘The ‘Burbs’ managed to squeak over 50% positive ratings on the critics’ consolidation site, Rotten Tomatoes. The ‘Amigos’ flick garnered 45% love, with Walter Matthau and Robin Williams being left out in the cold at 9% for ‘Survivors’.

Critics – what do they know? Each of those three films is fantastic, I tell ya.

Lynne, on the other hand, has tried to steer me gently towards bizarre epics like the 1984 version of ‘Dune’ (The worm is the spice… the spice is the worm… Wot?). About all I’ve grasped from several viewings is that Paul Atreides IS the Kwisatz Haderach and stickin’ yer hand into strange boxes is no fun.

Apart from ‘The Elephant Man’, I’m not sure David Lynch is my kind of director.

Music, film, food, romance… we weird-and-wonderful creatures differ on so many topics.

While friends got dewy-eyed over the likes of Tom Cruise in 1983’s ‘Risky Business’, I was sighing about Christopher Walken in ‘The Dead Zone’. I’ve always been drawn to the men who look like they could use some sun and a sandwich; my opinion about what I consider to be attractive. Not everyone heartily agrees.

How many times have you gone out to dinner and been served a dish you love, only for your companion to taste it and then look at you like you’re raving about Paul Blart?

Or maybe you’re at a boutique trying on a dress that you think looks fantastic. “What do you think?” you ask the friend who’s shopping with you.

Any reply that opens with, “Well, in my opinion,” rarely has good news to impart, proving that ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ isn’t just some outdated directive from the military.

There’s a lovely saying that I shan’t repeat that compares opinions to a certain part of the human anatomy, as everyone has one. Often, it’s not about how you feel on a subject, it’s the way you convey that opinion to others that matters… and whether they can receive it, digest it, and possibly counter in a mature fashion.

I get how topics like politics can descend into full-blown arguments, but let’s not break up a friendship over Pop-Tarts vs. Toaster Strudel: A Discussion.

With us entering official local election season, it’s going to be difficult to avoid talking about candidates. Prepare for social media to be a lot of fun for the next couple of months.

Which brings me to my final thoughts on today’s subject. When I first spied ‘IMO’ and ‘IMHO’ on Facebook posts and in WhatsApp messages, I had no earthly clue what they meant. I had to turn to Google to get the answer.

For ages, a friend ended some sombre messages with LOL, which made no sense to me, until I realised she thought it meant ‘Lots of Love’.

IMHO, we need to get back to when full words and sentences were the proper means of communication. PLZ.