I Know Nothing

I used to be a nosy son of a gun. If a whispered conversation was happening across the room, I was like a junkie needing my information fix. I was all up in everyone’s bid-ness on a macro level (reading PEOPLE magazine and following some diva’s tan lines) and a micro level (who’s dating my plumber?). This insatiable need to know was genetic and ethnic, because Italians believe that if you’re born into the family you are grist for the mill, baby.

In an Italian family, with 953 close relatives, your information flow is managed by a hierarchy of aunts and uncles who tell you who to date (Italians) who to hate (non-Italians) and when to mate (on your wedding night!). Most of this unsolicited “advice” came either at Sunday dinner or funerals, both of which were populated by huge numbers of people I didn’t really know, often dressed in black and always loud. I remember as a teenager being at the funeral of some unknown old guy I was apparently related to, when an ancient aunt elbowed me in the ribs, pointed out a handsome kid across the room and exhorted me to DATE HIM! When she was informed that this guy was my first cousin and such a coupling may negatively impact the gene pool, she yelled at me to GET AWAY FROM HIM! It was all very confusing, but colorful.

Without cell phones, twitter, or facebook, information in an Italian family still seemed to travel at the speed of light. If my baby brother Joe had a watery bowel movement, within seconds some aunt would be knocking at the door with herbs to put in the gravy (yes, the baby ate spaghetti). Nothing was sacred or private, and no stone was left unturned in my life which wasn’t really mine but the family’s.

The Catholic Church also managed my information flow, telling me what to believe, what to do and when to do it. I had a lot of questions, of course, about why there was suffering and how this all-loving God could, for instance, let a 5 year old die of leukemia but I eventually understood the Catholic guidelines to all this stuff. There are two answers to the question of bad things happening: (1) Free Will (we like to kill each other!) or (2) It’s A Mystery (reference childhood cancer). I was advised that I was a sinner from the git go and pretty darn arrogant for wanting to understand The Mystery of God’s Mind.

So I went off to Boston College where I drank a lot of beer, danced on tables, and felt happy to be out from under the microscope. At least I was no longer subjected to details about the dietary indiscretions of others.

And then along came Facebook.

Dang, it’s like having a virtual Italian family. People I didn’t like in high school can now find me and – God forbid – “friend” me. I can find out who spent the night on the john with the trots, who found a really good used cookie sheet at a yard sale, when somebody’s college kid is coming home, and how cute the neighbor’s baby is. Or not.

So I’ve taken control of my own information intake, finally, and I’m sort of like the military with various levels of security clearance. See, I’m on a need-to-know basis about everything and as it turns out, what I need to know ain’t much which is great because I forget most everything anyway. If I’m like most humans and only use 10% of my brain power I’m sure not going to waste that itty bitty cerebral space on Charlie Sheen. Everything falls into the following categories:

• Need to Know
• Don’t Know
• Should Know But Don’t
• Don’t Wanna Know

The whole man-woman thing basically falls into that last group. I used to want to understand how men see the world, what they “feel” etc and now I realize that the good nuns were right about some things. It’s a Mystery! The other night my husband actually picked up a pair of underwear off the floor and blew his nose. That’s incomprehensible to me. A Mystery.

When I was younger I was embarrassed about now knowing stuff and as a lawyer I often had to pretend to know things I didn’t but at 54 I just no longer give a rat’s ass so an awful lot falls into “Should Know But Don’t.” When people ask me a question I no longer act like I know what I’m talking about. I’m more like Colonel Klink on Hogan’s Heroes (remember him?) “I know NOTHING!”

It’s great to finally be in charge of my own information process, although a little disheartening to think of all the time I wasted trying to know stupid stuff and understand the incomprehensible. Much as I detest Facebook I still sign in once in a while, just in case something valuable is happening but mostly it seems like a place for people to whine and be smart assy or write boring details about what appear to be boring lives. Then there is the occasional person who uses Facebook to give a head’s up about homicide or suicide. Man, seems we have lost our way.

So I have about 90% of unused cerebral space to work with and there’s no more clutter about Jennifer Aniston or whether my neighbor is drinking too much. I kind of like all that empty space with nothing much in it, and clusters of people in whispered conversation now make me want to run the other way. I’m no longer nosy and thank God my life is no longer the subject of family meals. Although there’s not much I know or want to know right now I expect I’ll know even less as I get older.

How cool is that?