Conversation piece

Persons who are knowledgeable about interior design, which does not include me, advise the inclusion of "conversation pieces" among one's furnishings. By this they generally mean "something that costs a lot of money and looks weird." Conversation pieces are popular to give as recycled wedding gifts, being discreetly passed from couple to couple ("We gotta get rid of this vase that looks like Grover Cleveland. Who do we know that's getting married this year?"). Some of these objects have been in wedding circulation since 1959.

We have two conversation pieces in our home, although we did not get them via the wedding route. They are Joe's stereo speakers, purchased in the heyday of enormous, earth-shaking speaker systems, and lovingly transported to his every domicile since then. They don't stir much conversation among our guests, but they feature prominently in discussions between the two of us, as can be seen here:

Me: Those speakers are huge. Can't we get smaller ones?

Joe (in an injured tone): Those are hi-fi speakers. They're classic!

Me: Surely they make good smaller speakers now. Aren't those, like, a hundred years old?

Joe: Those are hi-fi speakers. They're classic!

Occasionally this conversation varies a bit. For instance, sometimes as I am offering my observations on the magnitudinous size of the speakers, I might wave a large metal object threateningly in their direction, whereupon is heard pitiful wailing and gnashing of teeth as Joe rushes to protect his 780-pound twins.

Being a female, and therefore unable to understand the primal male attraction to anything in the upper reaches of decibels, I was at a distinct disadvantage for inducing him to part with the speakers, short of making actual contact between them and the large metal object referred to earlier. Quite by accident, I hit upon the solution: Enlist the assistance of another male.

When we moved to our present location, a male friend of ours had the unenviable job of carrying the speakers into the house.

"Those speakers are huge. Joe should get smaller ones," he said to me.

"Thank you!" I said, feeling gratified.

"You can get really good small speakers now," he said.

"Really," I said, beginning to see how the removal of the speakers might be accomplished, with Joe's full cooperation. I asked our friend for a small favor. He understood immediately.

"You know," he said to Joe later, "you could get some really awesome smaller speakers to replace those old ones you have."

Joe did not wail. He did not gnash his teeth. He merely looked thoughtful.

And thus the seed was planted.

It took two and a half years, but the speakers have now gone to a new home. They are still sparking conversation, though. Mostly one-sided.

"I should have sold them for more."