Wisdom vs. mercy or, life in a college town

So it's Friday evening, and we're walking to have drinks and dinner at a place called Continental Divide (which, if you're ever in town, has no sign outside that says "Continental Divide" but does have a neon sign reading "Get in here." A little precious maybe, but the margaritas are tremendously strong and the food is right tasty. Lisa had marinated-pork tacos the size of your face, and I had a special of red mole-cooked flank steak that was fantastic.)

We're headed west on Main Street in Charlottesville, and a scruffy-looking dude passes us going the other way and says, "Excuse me." He's got longish hair and a beard and is wearing a big Bob Marley T-shirt; he looks a little like Steve Zahn, if Steve Zahn let himself go a little.



I'm ready to say either, "Sorry, man," if he asks for change or defer to Lisa if he asks where something is. But it's neither, because he says this instead (I'm paraphrasing a little here): "I'm taking a survey. If you could only have one, would you rather have wisdom or mercy?"

Then, seeing our bemused looks: "I've been asking a lot of people, and I'm trying to get my own mind around it, wisdom or mercy."

So now we're intrigued. Our guard relaxes a little, and we actually start to think about it for a second. We both say wisdom. Because -- at least this is how I see it -- wisdom would allow one to know when to be merciful. And, as Lisa pointed out later, if you're merciful without being at least a little wise, well, then you're just a pushover.

The guy didn't ask us why, though; he just thanked us and went on his way. And we went on ours, shaking our heads. "You gotta love being in a college town sometimes," Lisa said.

I imagine that, rapidly aging as I now am, there will be plenty of times in the coming nine months that I'll mutter and curse under my breath about students making my wait for lunch longer or whatever. But she's right: You gotta love it sometimes.