“Can I ask you a question?” <\/p>\n
She was making me a hot pastrami sandwich, which is the special this week. I had told her I was a math teacher to justify the book I had been reading while I waited in line, and it evidently made her think of something.<\/p>\n
I looked at her, a bit surprised. “Sure.”<\/p>\n
She set down the bread and her knife, and she held up her hands, making a circle.<\/p>\n
“So how much area does a sphere make when it touches a flat table?”<\/p>\n
“Well theoretically it is just a point,” I said, “so there’s no area.”<\/p>\n
She nodded as if perhaps that was what she was thinking. Or perhaps there was some kind of bet.<\/p>\n
“But in practice…” I added cautiously because I am apt to wax theoretical and overlook all practicality (as anyone in my family will tell you). “In practice there’s a small flat area.”<\/p>\n
And with that, I took my hot pastrami sandwich, selected a bag of sea-salt chips, and found a table in the corner. <\/p>\n
As I sat down, I grabbed a book off the book sharing shelf by the door, “Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysics of Morals” by Immanuel Kant. Never read Kant. What better time than while eating a hot pastrami sandwich. I opened the book and started reading the preface where I was told<\/p>\n
\nWe may call all philosophy empirical<\/em>, so far as it is based on grounds of experience: on the other hand, that which delivers its doctrines from a priori<\/em> principles alone we may call pure<\/em> philosophy…<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
I wanted to take the book to her. To show her those words. To warn her of the purely philosophical answer I had given her. To caution her on my complete lack of empirical experience with spheres sitting on tables. I wanted to. But I thought better of it and ate my hot pastrami sandwich, instead.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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