Wisdom & Knowledge in Conversation

There was a stiff ice chilled wind blowing up litter in spirals along the footpaths. Sheets of old newspapers scudded along the road like loosed sails from paper ships.  The tall, well dressed man watched with forced disconnection as a man, dressed as a council worker, pushed his street cleaning barrow up to the bus stop.  He was small and he seemed to shuffle rather than walk.  Leaving his barrow at the kerbside he picked up his brush and shovel, leant them carefully against the back of the bus shelter, wiped a seat with a filthy rag he’d pulled from one of his pockets, and sat himself down.  The tall man looked up at the matrix, again, checked the time against his wristwatch, again, then cleared his throat.  “Excuse me my man.”  He began.  “My bus is due any time now, and you’ve left your barrow in its way.”

The little man looked up at the tall man and exclaimed with exaggerated delight, “Oh my goodness!  Oh… my… goodness!  It’s you ain’t it? it really is you, ain’t it?  Wow! Mr. Wisdom, I ain’t seen you in years.”

The tall, well dressed man, Mr. Wisdom, was rather startled and somewhat agitated by the outburst.  “You Don’t remember me do ya’?”  The little man continued.  “It’s me, Mr. Wisdom, me!”  He removed his trapper hat and brushed back a few strands of wispy hair on his otherwise bold head.  “Knowledge, you know, Knowledge from college.”  He smiled, as if it would somehow help Mr.Wisdom, remember him.

“Oh, my!”  Replied Mr. Wisdom, looking very dubiously at the little man.  “It is you, it really is you, little Knowledge, well I never, in all my years.”

“Yeh!  An’ fancy meeting you here; just like this.  Wow!”  Knowledge exclaimed.

“Yes, well.”  Replied Mr. Wisdom.  “I don’t think it is too much of a surprise, meeting me here, as this is where I catch my bus  every morning.”

“Really!”  Knowledge put in.

“Yes.”  Mr. Wisdom shook off the interruption as he continued.  “Owing to the fact that I live just around the corner.”  He immediately regretted parting this information.  “Well a street or two away, at least, anyway.”

“Oh!  I bet you live in one of those big houses overlooking the park, don’t ya, ah?”  Knowledge enquired.

“Well yes.”  Answered Mr. Wisdom.  “It is large I suppose and it does command a good aspect.”

“D’you know.”  Knowledge swooned.  “Mrs. Knowledge would love to live in one of those  big houses like that; she’d think that it’s her birthday every day if she could live in one of those big houses like that.”

Mr. Wisdom looked down the road to see if his bus was anywhere in sight.  Then he looked at the matrix, again, which now announced that his bus was, “delayed.”  Mr. Wisdom sat down on a seat at the opposite end of the row to Knowledge.  “And might I enquire, where are you living these days?”

“Oh, me an’ Mrs. Knowledge, we’ve got a little flat in Deptford.  It’s a bit damp and ya’ can’t swing a cat, but, now the kids ‘ave gone, it’s ok for us.  Cosy, that’s what Mrs. Knowledge calls it.”

“So you and Mrs. Knowledge, you have children.”  Mr. Wisdom queried.  “And have they gone to university or are they married?’ 

“Oh no! No! No!”  Knowledge answered.  “Social services took ‘em.  On account of me being in prison, that was.”

“Prison, Knowledge?”  Mr. Wisdom asked, somewhat surprised.  He looked down at the little man sitting a few seats next to him in the bus shelter with a quizzical expression. He made the shape of a word with his mouth and then thought better of it.

“It’s a bit of a long story.”  Knowledge advised.

Mr. Wisdom took a deep breath and made to speak, then he changed his mind and let his breath out again before taking another, and saying, “Well, seeing that my bus is somewhat delayed, I have the time.  Tell me?”

“It’s a bit difficult, ‘cause it’s all Mrs. Knowledge’s fault ain’t it.”  Knowledge fumbled in a pocket and fished out a pork pie.  “She was doing a bit of book keeping for these guys down the taxi garage.  Nice lads.  Foreign and all that but really nice, you know, salt of the earth types.  Well I used to go and help them out with their deliveries.”

“Deliveries?”  Mr. Wisdom asked dubiously.

“Yeh!  Like I’d pick up a package from their place and drop it off at some random address.  They paid me for it.  Really good money actually; so I used to get them to run me round in one of their taxis.”

Mr. Wisdom looked incredulous.  “Did you ever ask what was in those packages, Knowledge?”

“Nah!  None of my business.”  Knowledge replied.  “They were okay blokes, weren’t they; well that was until I lost a package.”

“Really! And what did they say to that, may I ask?”  Mr. Wisdom anticipated the reply.

Knowledge took a bite out of his pork pie and carried on.  “Well they weren’t to happy to be honest, Mr. Wisdom, they was very angry actually.”  He put the pork pie down on the seat next to him and fished in another pocket and produced a small metal thermos flask.  “I ‘adn’t really lost it, I was robbed.  I was doing a delivery and as I got out the taxi, this bloke, jumped me and nicked the package.  The taxi driver took off so fast he ran over my flask.  Squashed it flat, he did.  Well the guys wanted the money for the contents of the package and well, it was really a lot, like loads.”

“Sounds very unpleasant, Knowledge.”  Mr. Wisdom mused.

Knowledge loosened the stopper on the top of the flask, and filled the lid with something that looked very much like liquid mud.  “Would you like a drink?”  He asked Mr. Wisdom, and offered him the lid.  “You can have the first sips.”  Mr. Wisdom, shook his head.  “Mrs. Knowledge, did the books for them as I said, so she took them to the police.  She knew where all the bodies was buried.”

“Bodies, Knowledge!”  Asked Mr. Wisdom, in alarm.

“Not real bodies, I mean the other kind.  The metapho…”  Knowledge struggled with the word.

“Metaphorical.”  Mr. Wisdom put in.

“Yeh!  Them bodies.”  Knowledge agreed.  

“So you were in prisoned for drug dealing, Knowledge.”  Stated Mr. Wisdom. 

“No!  No!  The police weren’t bothered.”  He looked troubled.  “Well not in the guys at the taxi garage.”  Knowledge picked up the pork pie and took another bite.  “It was them as was none too happy with either of us an’ started threatening me and Mrs. Knowledge, after that.  It was really nasty; proper upset her it did.”

“So dare I ask what you did to mediate the situation?”  Mr. Wisdom questioned.

“I went round to the taxi garage with a baseball bat I borrowed from a little lad in the street.”  Knowledge answered.

“Ah ha!  I see.”  Mr. Wisdom said thoughtfully.

“Yeh!  I got eighteen months for criminal damage and assault.”  Knowledge frowned.  “‘Course, ‘cos’ I was in the nick, Mrs. Knowledge, ‘ad to sell the house to settle up with the guys.  They were very good about it, an’ because she ‘ad nowhere else to go and live they went and fixed her up in the flat.  Now ain’t that nice.”

“Hmmm!"  Mr. Wisdom thought loudly and then.  “Oh!  Sorry Knowledge, my bus is just arriving, You will hav’…”  He motioned in the direction of the barrow.  Knowledge didn’t move.  Mr. Wisdom waved to the bus driver.  The driver slowed down, looked at the barrow at the kerbside in front of the bus stop, shook his head, and drove on.  “Oh, Knowledge!”  Cried Mr. Wisdom.

Knowledge could see that Mr. Wisdom was not happy.  “How would you, ya know, medi… er… mediate this situation then?”  Knowledge stood up, smiled to himself and slipped the thermos flask and his half eaten pork pie back into the pocket of his high vis’ jacket.

“I forgive you.”  Said Mr. Wisdom, somewhat awkwardly as he looked at the matrix, sign, again.  “After all, there’s another bus coming in just a few minutes.”

“Oh nice, you’re letting me off then.”  Knowledge decided.

“Is that what you think forgiveness means, Knowledge, letting people off?”  Asked Mr. Wisdom.

“Well it is, isn’t it?”  Knowledge replied.  “At college you said that Jesus, ‘ad come to forgive our sins and we wouldn’t ‘ave any anymore.”

“Hmmm!  I’m not quite sure that I did say that at all, knowledge.”  Mr. Wisdom considered.  “Jesus, came to pay the price of our sin.  That is not to say that sin does not exist anymore, rather sin has been paid for.  But this is to do with repentance and not forgiveness.”

“What?”  Questioned Knowledge, looking puzzled.

“Forgiveness works differently.”  Mr. Wisdom took a breath and looked up at the matrix sign, yet again, which now read “Delayed.”  “Take your barrow.”  He continued.

“I’m going to!”  Said Knowledge.

“I know!”  Said Mr. Wisdom, a little too tersely.

“You’re angry at me, ain’t ya?”  Knowledge retorted.

“No!  I am not!”  Mr. Wisdom affirmed.  “Anger is, in itself, detrimental.  If when you move along with your barrow to continue with your street sweeping, I doubt that you will stop to think about my being angry with you, nor will you suffer any upset by it.  The thought, should it happen, will not have any adverse effect on your day.”

“So you are angry at me.”  Knowledge stated, as he looked up at Mr. Wisdom from underneath the peak of his trapper hat.

“No, Knowledge, I am not angry with you for the point is this, if I were it would only spoil my day and not yours.”  Said Mr. Wisdom, with satisfaction.  "Do you see?  Forgiveness is a very selfish act.  It allows one to carry on with life without it being blighted by anger, or a feeling of injustice, nor a seething desire to get even.  It also leaves the opportunity open for those who have wronged you to apologise.”

“So you want me to apologise to ya’ for my barrow, Mr. Wisdom.”  Knowledge asked skeptically.

“No!  That is not what I am saying Knowledge, but as I am not angry and we are still speaking the opportunity is there for you to approach me with the desire to apologise should you wish to do so.”  Mr. Wisdom smiled down at Knowledge.  "It is by far better than a baseball bat as that only achieved an eighteen month prison sentence, the loss of your house and children and the ambition fulfilling job of sweeping streets.”

Knowledge shuffled off the kerb and placed his brush and shovel on the barrow, unused, then stood and thought for a moment.  “D’you know Mr. Wisdom.”  He said considerately.  “You’re a very clever man you are. very clever.  I’m gonna tell Mrs. Knowledge about you, I am, just as soon as I get home.”

Mr. Wisdom’s face was aglow.  “You do just that, Knowledge.”  He said.

Knowledge pushed his street cleaning barrow across the road to the bus stop opposite and set it down at the kerbside.  He removed his brush and shovel and leaned them carefully against the back of the shelter, then he sat down on the seat and removed his flask and the half eaten pork pie from the pocket of his high vis’ jacket.  Mr. Wisdom watched him until his view was obstructed by the number 27 bus.  The doors opened and the driver demanded, “You gettin’ on or what?”