March 7, 2006
Incurious
Incuriosity will be the end of us yet. It’s why kids drop out of school. It’s why churchers haven’t the chutzpah to accept change and deal with it. And it’s obviously why the nation is being derailed by incompetents and their cronies. I once heard of a guy — a grown man — who was so incurious that he kept only two books readily accessible by his TV cathedra — the King James Bible and something or other by Rush Limbaugh. And of course, the Remote.
But I should carp. The only thing I was curious about when in my earlier adolescence I took my first crack at college was the best valve oil for trumpets, whether to use it at all, how to improvise on any tune other than the blues changes in the key of concert Bb, and, of course, women. The curriculum held little interest. My school was run by some Methodists who really liked to keep the enrollment up. It was that desire plus a band scholarship that got me through four semesters before the registrar found out, and we had a mutual understanding.
To be curious is to be disposed to learn, to be informed, to read the Bible, of course, but also the newspaper, as well, for yourself, and not to depend on somebody else to tell you only what’s in it that they think won’t rankle you.
Maybe it’s also to be a little bit unusual like Indian John in Fennimore Cooper’s book, The Pioneer, who was “curious at cuts and bruises,” which meant that he had special knowledge about treating wounds. Actually, Indian John had a grip on the root sense of the word, ie, to be characterized by special care and ability, which meaning would probably be alive today if any of our graduates were Latin- or even semi-literate.
But things are different now. I’m a lot older and increasingly more curious lest I run out of time. On top of that, I’ve discovered the best valve oil in existence and I’ve given up the trumpet for the cornet. As for improvising, I’ve learned maybe four or five more keys than Bb, though none of them are likely to work the locks on the Gates to the Kingdom. As for women… if anybody will ever save this old world, it’ll be them, thass whom.