The Waffle House is where America eats and learns existential truths. Within its hallowed walls, I heard a profound question escape from the lips of a Philosopher Waitress as she prepared to take the orders of the hungry Americans sitting in the next booth.
As soon as her question floated into the delicately bacon-scented air of the Waffle House, I knew that it would be the subject of a column. The question stands as a beacon of deep import. What, you might ask, did she say? Odd, you should ask in the first paragraph of this stain on World Literature.
She asked the entire booth: “Is everybody happy with their life decisions this morning?”
Let that question sink in, friends and neighbors. Are you happy with your life decisions this morning?
Tell the truth, now.
Clearly, every decision you have made in your life has led to you reading this chloroform in print right now. How can this be? Where did you go wrong in falling to this lowly state of reading this column in a local weekly? It turns out decisions matter. Why weren’t we informed?
When things get bumpy in life, my wife Lani and I head to the local Waffle House for comfort food. The syrup and cholesterol work wonders. The elegant Zen from the Waitress was an unexpected bonus.
Life decisions matter, even to Oysters. Consider Alice in Wonderland’s story of the Walrus and the Carpenter.
When was the last time you overheard a conversation between a Walrus and a Carpenter? It has probably been at least several months. Your eavesdropping drought is broken today courtesy of Up & Coming Weekly.
Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear when Walruses and Carpenters roamed freely upon the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Back before Highway 12 was just a gleam in real estate developers’ eyes.
Let us set the scene. The Walrus and the Carpenter were heading north on the beach towards Virginia when they fell into a morose conversation bemoaning the fact there was so much sand on the beach. The Walrus, in a philosophical mode, said: “If seven maids with seven mops/ Swept it for half a year/ Do you suppose they could get it clear? “
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter/ And shed a bitter tear.
To take their minds off this distressing subject, the Walrus and the Carpenter invited some Oysters to walk with them towards Ocracoke. The oldest Oyster declined their invitation to take a romantic stroll along the beach. Four young Oysters, filled with the impetuous energies of youth, eagerly took up the Walrus’ offer for a walkabout.
Many other young Oysters, falling in thrall to the four Influencer Oysters, fearing missing out, rushed to join the Walrus and Carpenter. The madness of crowds is sometimes double plus ungood.
The happy group walked on about a mile until it was time for a rest. The host of young Oysters stood in an expectant, smiling row. The Walrus cleared his throat and began an oration: “The time has come to talk of many things/ Of shoes and ships and sealing wax/ of cabbages and kings/ and why the sea is boiling hot/ and whether pigs have wings.”
The Oysters asked to rest a bit longer because most of them were fat and tired. (Editor’s note: Oysters do not have feet, rendering effective ambulation on sand difficult) The Walrus noted they needed a loaf of bread, pepper, and vinegar before the seaside picnic could begin. The Oysters protested that after such a nice walk, it would be anti-climactic to be eaten.
The Walrus displayed a sense of near regret. But as we all know, hunger overcomes regret in every instance. He said: “It seems a shame to play them such a trick/ After we’ve brought them out so far/ and made them trot so quick.”
The Carpenter said nothing but: “The butter’s spread too thick.”
The Walrus replied, “I weep for you/ I deeply sympathize.” With sobs and tears he sorted out those of the largest size/ holding his pocket-handkerchief before his streaming eyes.
“O, Oysters,” said the Carpenter, “You’ve had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?” But answer came there was none/ And this was scarcely odd, because they’d eaten every one.
Untrigger Warning: No actual Oysters were harmed in the writing of this column. Remember, your life decisions can affect your life. Pass the cocktail sauce and melted butter, it’s Oyster Roast season.

(Illustration by Pitt Dickey)