The Ringing in My Ears 

I've learned a lot. It's true. I know everything about divorce--or at least everything that I want to know. The rest, yeah. You can keep that knowledge fruit, it doesn't taste nearly as sweet as the serpentine brochure claims.

Selective knowledge? Is that something we can aspire to? Is it something we should aspire to? If actions lead to knowledge, shouldn't we rush right one and slip our fingers into the 220v sockets of learning?

The landscape is littered with those who've tried. All you have to do is roll over the bodies to see the burn marks. For me, sometimes a little jolt is enough. Sometimes I can learn through other's lightning strike eureka moments.

"Ok, Ron, thunderstorm golfing, wasn't a good idea. I'll just take the penalty strokes now and meet you in the clubhouse. You win. Ron?"

If knowledge is power, there are enough people who've been shocked with enough power to light Los Angeles with the glow of bathtub toasters. Luckily they all live there. In marriage and divorce, some knowledge is good, but if you have to learn from experience, then not all knowledge is beneficial. Some knowledge is best taken on faith. Ask Adam and Eve.

Unfortunately Knowledge isn't the same thing as wisdom. Webster's describes wisdom as acquired knowledge, but I would argue that it's more than acquired, it's the ability to use it. A knowledgeable person can know that their house is on fire, but it's the wise man who stands out front and sells tickets. Trust me. I was wise in my divorce: I sold tickets.

But that's only one instance where wisdom paid off. There are other instances where it's hard to know how to be wise. Sometimes morality muddies things up. Moral calls can be the toughest to make.

I had to make a moral call. I didn't know that it was a moral call when I made it, but that's how things of knowledge, wisdom, and morality happen. They call; you answer. My call was a friend of mine. We'll call him Ro-…Ro-…Ro- Yerboat. Naw, lets just call him Daphne.

"Hey Rob, it's me, Daphne."

"Hey Daph, wassup?"

"I need a favor."

"What favor?"
"I need you to cover for me."

Suddenly my spider sense is tingling. Spider sense isn't knowledge, wisdom, or morality, but it does let me know when I'm gonna get squashed.

It seems that Daphne has been chatting with somebody online, and it's starting to get serious. This wouldn't be a problem, if Daphne weren't married.

"Nothing has happened yet, I swear. I just want you to cover for me, should my husband Shaggy see the excess of chats."

What do I do? Here is a eureka moral quandary, and I can hear the thunder. I know that the word "yet" is very dangerous. It would be wise to just hang up, because Shaggy is a kickboxer, and has big friends like Scooby and Velma. Me, I'm a writer. That ""pen mightier than…?" It's crap. It's something a writer wrote to make the taste of his own blood taste better. I know I don't like the taste, and I don't know what was said in these chats.

"What do you mean you like my wife's kitty? We don't own a cat!"

"Yes, but she does play poker. There was a lot at stake, and I lost."

Still Daphne is a good friend. I've know Daphne for years, and she's driven her mystery van through many of my dark and story nights--more than my other friend, Snoopy. So do I cover for Daphne, even though she's ignoring wisdom to gain the power of knowledge--and hindsight, or do I tell her no, and explain the rumble that she hears in the distance is her own ruin?

I believe that we make our way through life clanging the triangle of our heart. Sometimes we ring the beat to the side of wisdom, sometimes knowledge, or sometimes morality. Then there are the times where we miss altogether. That doesn't stop us from marching along, but it does make our tone hollow and empty, and all anybody hears is the silence of lack. That silence changes everything.

This is my moment of selective knowledge. I haven't lived what she's going through, but I have seen others. How do I do the select the best answer?

It's strange, I've found myself in a situation where there's no mystery. I know what's wise and what's smart, and I know Susan What I don't know is how to be the best friend. All I can do is pick my side and march. I balance my triangle in my hand and I start to ring, "Well, Daphne…"