There is a very good chance I don’t really know what is going on in the world. I know selective things, like how high the water is in Stansbury Lake, President Bush changing his wording about Mexican immigration to “migration, and the global warming hoax and the religion of environmentalism. (Yep, I lifted those last two subjects from Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh.)
But I don’t know other apparently important stuff like how many men claim to have fathered Anna Nicole Smith’s baby and rather or not the neighbor across the street is in the nursing home again.
Frankly, I miss a lot of what is going on around me, both close to home and in the national and international headlines.
I don’t watch daytime television, instead I listen to Rush Limbaugh, Dr. Laura and Glenn Beck on “Family values radio, KNRS!” I don’t spend a lot of time visiting with the neighbors, or even looking out my front window, instead I’m chatting about school board meetings with the district superintendent. I know in excruciating detail the population numbers of my school district, and the teaching methods of my DHs fellow school teachers, but I can’t remember from one day to the next when my children are supposed to have their science fair project completed.
I’m not sure how much of this selective knowledge of the world around me is a conscious choice.
Okay, I do chose to listen to conservative radio news rather than watch Katie Couric on television. I do have a rather pronounced gag reflex, after all.
But the rest of the news filtering seems to just happen by nature.
The boys school news tends to be contained in one of the papers overflowing their backpacks which tend to litter the front doorway of the house every evening. My contact with these backpacks usually is limited to the daily shrieks of “pick up your backpacks and put them away already!”
I don’t really have a lot of time to sit on the front stoop and chat with the neighbors about the other neighbors, not that I am all that interested in the subject, anyway. I’m generally too busy picking up backpacks as I kick a path to the door so I can pick up my daily allotment of bills and advertising flyers from the mailbox.
But I suppose no one can know everything.
This is said to be the information age, but it seems in the midst of all the information many of us (myself included) are more ignorant than ever about the really important things in our lives, the events going on in the lives of family members and neighbors.
I suppose ignorance is bliss.