As I’m growing older, people around me are getting smarter.
Back in the day, I remember my parents, teachers and other “wisdom figures” dishing out advice and guidance. They kept feeding me a bunch of malarkey about stuff that just didn’t matter. Often, out of obligation or fear, I would smile and nod in agreement, but they didn’t have a clue.
One Christmas, I received a fancy set of volumes entitled Great Books of the Western World by Robert Hutchins. I used them as a stairstep to reach the top shelf of my closet where I hid my Playboy magazines. It’s fair to say, my intellectual curiosity was aided by the work of Hutchins.
I stayed around people who had little to offer until I was about 30 years old. Then people in my life got brighter. Their sage advice saved me from many troubles that had plagued my youth. All of a sudden, books became better written, with words that brought me both joy and pleasure.
Now, in my 70s, almost everyone I meet is smarter than I am. Go figure! Maybe it’s because I moved to Nevada.