David Baxter PhD
Late Founder
Straight Answers
By Polly Frost
June 14, 2010
We were sitting in our living room this morning when my husband said, “What time would you like breakfast?”
“Remember that French toast we had at Zilla’s Cafe in San Diego? I can still taste the amazing vanilla flavor it had,” I replied.
My husband was silent. Then said, “I was asking about what time you’d like breakfast. Not for your Proustian memories of a brunch we once had. You know I love you. But why is that when I ask you a question you never give me a straight answer?”
“Is there coffee?” I said.
He got up from his Barcalounger. “That proves my point. That’s not a straight answer.”
“Of course it is,” I explained. “It’s what came straight to me when you asked that. And more half-and-half in my coffee than you’ve been putting in recently, please.”
He sighed, then went into the kitchen and returned with a cup.
“Yum,” I said, sipping. “Amazing how much you’ve learned about making coffee since we got married.”
“Thank you,” he interrupted. “Now back to the topic of straight answers. For example, if I ask you ‘What color is this Barcalounger?’ What should you answer?”
“I don’t know what it is about guys and Barcaloungers.”
“I’m asking what color it is. Which is --”
“At least it’s not an ugly mustard color like the one you had when I first met you.”
“Sweetheart, that’s not a straight answer. A straight answer imparts information.”
“I did give you information, the kind you need in case I ever get hit by a bus and you’re a widower living on your own. Do not buy another mustard Barcalounger. Most women aren’t like me. They won’t be able to get past the unappetizing sight of it and see how appealing you are. And I would like you to be happily married again. Although not for ten years.”
“I just want to know what color it is,” he said.
“You already know that, because I insisted it was the only color Barcalounger I’d have in our home. I’m telling you something you obviously don’t know which is that you should never buy mustard furniture, even though it’s marked down to half-price. I also threw in a bonus detail, which is that I’m very generous hearted. A lot of women don’t encourage their husbands to remarry.”
“I didn’t want to know all that stuff.”
“It’s on the house.”
“Don’t you understand why straight answers are important?”
“They seem to matter a lot to you.”
“No, not just to me,” he insisted. “The exchange of data is one of the foundations of civilization. Let’s go back thousands of years. Two prehistoric men from different tribes meet. One says ‘What’s that red and orange stuff near your cave?’ ‘It’s fire,’ the other man says. ‘How do you make fire?’ the first asks. ‘You rub two sticks together,’ the other explains. The first man goes back to his village with this knowledge. That night everyone in his tribe will eat and be kept warm. However, let’s say that cave man had encountered you. ‘How do you make fire?’ he would have asked. You’d have said something like ‘I love roasted marshmallows.’ That poor cave man would have gone back to his village completely confused. The knowledge of building a fire would never have been shared.”
“On the other hand, civilization might not have had to wait thousands of years for the invention of marshmallows because I would have planted the seed of culinary inspiration in his brain.”
My husband pulled the lever on his Barcalounger until it was in full recline. “So you don’t see the importance of giving straight answers to questions you’ve been asked?”
“Will you be making bacon along with vanilla French toast for breakfast? A half-hour from now would be perfect.”
By Polly Frost
June 14, 2010
We were sitting in our living room this morning when my husband said, “What time would you like breakfast?”
“Remember that French toast we had at Zilla’s Cafe in San Diego? I can still taste the amazing vanilla flavor it had,” I replied.
My husband was silent. Then said, “I was asking about what time you’d like breakfast. Not for your Proustian memories of a brunch we once had. You know I love you. But why is that when I ask you a question you never give me a straight answer?”
“Is there coffee?” I said.
He got up from his Barcalounger. “That proves my point. That’s not a straight answer.”
“Of course it is,” I explained. “It’s what came straight to me when you asked that. And more half-and-half in my coffee than you’ve been putting in recently, please.”
He sighed, then went into the kitchen and returned with a cup.
“Yum,” I said, sipping. “Amazing how much you’ve learned about making coffee since we got married.”
“Thank you,” he interrupted. “Now back to the topic of straight answers. For example, if I ask you ‘What color is this Barcalounger?’ What should you answer?”
“I don’t know what it is about guys and Barcaloungers.”
“I’m asking what color it is. Which is --”
“At least it’s not an ugly mustard color like the one you had when I first met you.”
“Sweetheart, that’s not a straight answer. A straight answer imparts information.”
“I did give you information, the kind you need in case I ever get hit by a bus and you’re a widower living on your own. Do not buy another mustard Barcalounger. Most women aren’t like me. They won’t be able to get past the unappetizing sight of it and see how appealing you are. And I would like you to be happily married again. Although not for ten years.”
“I just want to know what color it is,” he said.
“You already know that, because I insisted it was the only color Barcalounger I’d have in our home. I’m telling you something you obviously don’t know which is that you should never buy mustard furniture, even though it’s marked down to half-price. I also threw in a bonus detail, which is that I’m very generous hearted. A lot of women don’t encourage their husbands to remarry.”
“I didn’t want to know all that stuff.”
“It’s on the house.”
“Don’t you understand why straight answers are important?”
“They seem to matter a lot to you.”
“No, not just to me,” he insisted. “The exchange of data is one of the foundations of civilization. Let’s go back thousands of years. Two prehistoric men from different tribes meet. One says ‘What’s that red and orange stuff near your cave?’ ‘It’s fire,’ the other man says. ‘How do you make fire?’ the first asks. ‘You rub two sticks together,’ the other explains. The first man goes back to his village with this knowledge. That night everyone in his tribe will eat and be kept warm. However, let’s say that cave man had encountered you. ‘How do you make fire?’ he would have asked. You’d have said something like ‘I love roasted marshmallows.’ That poor cave man would have gone back to his village completely confused. The knowledge of building a fire would never have been shared.”
“On the other hand, civilization might not have had to wait thousands of years for the invention of marshmallows because I would have planted the seed of culinary inspiration in his brain.”
My husband pulled the lever on his Barcalounger until it was in full recline. “So you don’t see the importance of giving straight answers to questions you’ve been asked?”
“Will you be making bacon along with vanilla French toast for breakfast? A half-hour from now would be perfect.”
