St. Augustine said, "Man must not blush to confess that he knows not what he doth not know, lest while he feigns that he knoweth, he bring on himself never to know."

I have a very dear friend who hates the King James Bible, not because she is anti-Christian, but because, as she puts it, there are "too many '-eths'."  I love the "-eths." I love anything smacking of "-eths." Shakespeare. The King James. St. Augustine. Antiquated translations of works from antiquity.

Anyway, like St. Augustine, I also love saying, "I don't know," and I love people who aren't afraid to say it with me, because then we can find out together. What's even better is, at my age, I forget so fast, that I often have the joy of re-learning the same "something new" two or three times in a row.

So, Gretchen from the Oneota Co-op, this one's for us: Do extra-large eggs come from extra-large chickens, or do the same chickens lay medium eggs sometimes, and large eggs other times? Upon what does it depend? The size of the rooster? The mood of the chicken? The contents of the chicken's feed? If you put food coloring into the feed, would the eggs come out tie-dyed for Easter?

Hey, I'm a city girl, born and bred, with a very brief sojourn on a non-animal farm. I may not know much, but at least I shall never bring on myself never to know. And my goofy questions will at least give some people a good laugh.


Never count out youth

I was delightfully surprised when one of the Luther students who wrote a letter in response to my anti-modern music tirade wanted to pursue the dialogue further in person.

In Italian, the phrase "in bocca al lupo" means "break a leg," and is a phrase used to wish a performer good luck. It literally means, "into the mouth of the wolf," (to which the proper response is "Crepi il lupo!" - "May the wolf bite the big one and die!"). It is the courage of youth, to jump into the mouth of the wolf, and be willing to shake hands with opinionated old broads.

We sat outside of Java John's and drove the other people on the sidewalk nuts, he with excerpts from his preference (Mann, Shostakovich, et al.), I with the likes of Caruso and Ruffo, Callas and Gobbi. (We did mostly use headphones, but for the times we didn't, sorry about that, folks.) I even listened to a teeny bit of this John Cage guy.

Yeah, OK, I'll cut the 20th century some slack from now on, if only out of respect for my honorable and honored opponents. I won't ever buy a John Cage CD (that would be like shoving a dental drill up my sinuses), but I'd be willing to spring for a recording of Shostakovich's Piano Concerto No. 2.

If opponents in the martial arts can bow before and after trying to beat the stuffing out of each other, how can I do any less? I think we both learned something. I wish our politicians would try it sometime. Namaste, dude. (See? You can teach an old broad - I mean old dog - new tricks.)