There are things I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know how today will end. At least not until it ends. And I don’t want to know how the world will end, because I will not be here to see it or remember it. Inbetween there are a lot of other things I don’t want to know.
I don’t want to know what your preferences are in the bedroom, the bathroom or even the livingroom, unless it has to do with your comfort when you are visiting me.
I don’t want to know who my congressman is beholden too because I want him to be beholden to me. And I know that will never happen.
I don’t want the government in my bedroom. I don’t want it on my back, either, but I don’t seem to have a choice any longer, about those two functions. (See above)
I don’t want to know what some drug manufacturer thinks I should be taking. That should be my doctor’s recommendation. And I don’t want him making that decision based on an ad in a consumer magazine.
I don’t want to think about any of these things because most are beyond my ability to affect them anyway.
I don’t want to know what kind of daydreams you have behind the wheel of your car or SUV or pickup. In fact the idea of you or any other driver daydreaming at the wheel scares me more than I can say.
I don’t want to know what you prefer in the way of food, or drink, again unless you are a guest in my home. I don’t want to know about the service you received at a restaurant or department store unless I have to visit either one.
And more to the point, I really don’t like to recommend anything to anyone, simply because no matter how good it was for me, you might find it anywhere from less so to abominable, and that could interfere with our relationship, friendship, business dealings or a host of other interactions.
It’s hard these days to avoid either making or getting recommendations. Too often I open my email and find a must-open missive that wants me to know how someone I don’t know feels about something I don’t want for a problem I don’t have. Either that, or I’m told it is my responsibility to share my innermost feelings about something I bought or sold or gave or received.
Frankly, it’s no ones business.
On the other hand, there are things I do want to know.
If we are friends, and I have written or said or done something that offends you or hurts you, I want to know and try to make it right. If there is something I have written, and it touches you, no matter how, I’d like to know that, too. Perhaps you will correct an erroneous impression I’ve gotten, or I don’t have my facts on straight, and correcting that will make it right, I need to know that, too.
If something has happened in your life, and we are friends, and I can share either the sorrow or the joy, that’s what friends are for.
As we begin this new year of 2015, we have no idea of where we will be, or how the year will end twelve months from now. I’ve made no New Year’s Resolutions because of that, and because none of us know where or how we will be in a year’s time. Best, I think, to go on assuming tomorrow will come, and be ready to face it when it does. If we get to the end of the year together, friendship intact, love still alive, our world still spinning in the way it always has, then we may count ourselves fortunate and be glad.
The year just completed proved at least one thing: we added another year to our personal histories. That gives us courage and strength to meet the next one, I hope. That you are reading this essay gives me pleasure. I hope that this and all the others meet your expectations and make you think, offer insight, perhaps provide a laugh along with a nod of understanding.
I wish you all a Happy and Productive and Satisfying New Year.