Steven Ivory: How to Know Things

*Tia is one of the most informed people I know. She has a wealth of knowledge on many subjects and a deep understanding of both big and small things.

Want to have a serious talk about world politics? Tia’s here for it. Ever wonder why some flowers come back year after year and others don’t? Ask Tia.

Exactly how astronauts relieve themselves in space might be a mystery to you, but not to Tia.

One afternoon after lunch at a restaurant at The Grove, a popular upscale outdoor shopping and entertainment mall in midtown Los Angeles, we sat on a bench, people-watching as Tia casually explained to me the not-so-sexy mating habits of an octopus. I asked her what I usually ask when she mentions some obscure bit of information: How do you know all this stuff?

“I dunno,” the forty-something Tia said with a self-deprecating shrug. “Useless information just finds me.”

She then responded with a reasonable explanation, noting that a ten-year age difference between her and her closest sibling, along with living in a small community outside Memphis where few children her age were available, meant she spent much of her childhood alone. A strict stepmother limited her television time.

So, I’d read. When I was 10 years old, that’s what gave me my freedom. I’d read anything around the house—old encyclopedias my mom never threw out, cookbooks, magazines, the newspaper, backs of cereal boxes—anything I could read at that age. The dictionary. Then we got a computer. I wasn’t allowed to use it, but I’d sneak on and read stuff. Reading took me places.”

As Tia got older, her insatiable reading, which began as a way to combat loneliness, became a habit and a passion. “I still read everything. I watch documentaries that nobody watches, films—I’ll give anything a chance.”

I could relate to what Tia said. As a loner who mostly disliked school, I often took refuge during lunch periods in the library at Oklahoma City’s Douglass High. Not exactly an academic, my reading wasn’t as broad as Tia’s. I’m still surprised that I read anything back then besides comic books and music fan magazines.

Biographies of famous people were always my favorite. I remember being captivated by books about FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover and entertainment mogul Walt Disney—two men you’d assume were on opposite ends of the spectrum, but who shared unwavering conservatism and an almost sinister need for control and outward appearances.

Since those days, what I’ve learned—and I didn’t read this in a book—is that, ironically, the key to gaining more knowledge in life is being willing to admit what you don’t know.

One of the biggest obstacles to learning is personal insecurity. The shame of not knowing something can stop people from admitting what they don’t understand. Being too self-conscious to admit what you don’t know keeps you uninformed. There’s also the problem of being unwilling to accept facts because they conflict with one’s beliefs or what they insist is true.

The key to intelligence is having a desire to learn. And why should we want to learn what we don’t know? Because information personally enriches us and broadens our understanding of ourselves and the world.

Stepping outside of your knowledge—and into a world of things you don’t know—is as simple as taking an interest in topics that wouldn’t usually attract you. It costs nothing to read an article you’d usually ignore, or watch a documentary whose subject isn’t on your radar. When someone knows more than you do about a subject, don’t try to show how much you know about it—listen. And ask questions.

Limit your time with those who aren’t interested in learning or believe they already know everything. I have a few friends who, whenever we come across a word, phrase, or details about an event or history we’re unsure of, whether we’re on the phone or in person, we look it up immediately. Leave it for later, and you’ll probably never get to it. There’s always a sense of pride among us that we’ve learned something new, and we did it together.

If you’re open, new information will come your way, but don’t wait for it to find you. Curiosity is free. One of the great things about life is that we all have access to knowledge. It’s just a matter of caring enough to participate in the feast.

Tia has never acted or behaved like someone you’d call a know-it-all. In fact, she’s quite the opposite. “The more I learn,” she said, “the more I realize how much I don’t know.” Amen to that, sis.

I stood up to leave, but Tia remained on the bench. Her man managed one of the businesses at the Grove. Today was his day off, but he had gone in to train a new employee. When he finished, he and Tia planned to catch a movie at the Grove. To pass the time, she pulled a small, pamphlet-sized book from her bag.

“You ever read this?” she asked, showing me a copy of the Constitution. I admitted I had been given a couple of copies over the years, but I never took the time to read them.

“Me neither. I figured I’d read it,” she said with a sarcasm-laced wink, “and see what all the fuss is about.”