Are you familiar with the idiom: “Curiosity killed the cat?” Truth be told, that is only part of the story. There is more to that saying that I will attempt to unpack as this column wanders to a conclusion.
No doubt, curiosity is the root of learning. My dad once told me, on the farm, that he expected me to ask questions or “how else will you learn?” He was referring to learning the proper way to complete assigned tasks, not necessarily the secrets of life. Like how to understand women or why pizza is round, comes in a square box and is cut into triangles. Both are mysteries to me still.
Curiosity brought me downstairs to our unfinished basement when I was a child. Calling my name was an old washing machine with the roller attachment at the top. The older versions of this contraption were hand cranked, but this one had an electric motor with both forward and reverse buttons. Mom used it to wring the excess water from heavy items like rugs, Levi farm pants/coveralls, and bedspreads, before hanging them on the backyard clothesline. It had always fascinated me to stand at her side and watch her feed those items through the ringer and out the other side. You know where I am going with this…I had to do it…I had to find out if my fingers would fit between those hard rubber cylinders and had to know how it would feel. I could have simply followed dad’s advice and just asked mom what the outcome would be, but no. I just had to try it.
Three seconds later, I had my answer and it was not good. An inch into the rollers and I was frantically reaching for the reverse button with my other hand. I never confessed my experiment to mom and camouflaged my pain and tears as I ran back up stairs.
A few feet across that cement floor basement stood our freezer. Full of homegrown beef, bread, and garden vegetables raised by Mom. Over time, those freezer doors would become thick with ice prompting her to perform the defrosting process. Unplugging it for a few hours allowed it to thaw slightly. A putty knife and small hammer were then used to chip off the chunks of ice.
I was dispatched to that freezer one evening to fetch hamburger or some other frozen item. I insisted my older brother Scott accompany me as I was terrified of that dark basement and needed his protection. He taunted me by saying, “Hey, I dare you to put your tongue on the door right there (pointing to the frosty inner metal surface). It feels cool! I do it all the time.” Here comes curiosity again. Three seconds later, I had my answer.
Much like the day out by the barn where we had a small corral with electric fencing to hold our single old horse named “Lady.” The chore was to fill the watering trough or throw some hay in the stall. Once again, Scott was with me. This one is obvious as well. “Hey, I dare you to grab that wire with your hand. It feels cool! I do it all the time.” Three seconds later, I had my answer. I am hating curiosity at this point in my young life! And, I stopped following my brother around as well!
Now, I’ll give you the other chocolate wafer of the Oreo cookie to complete this story. In the first paragraph, I showed you the first wafer by quoting, “Curiosity killed the cat.” The funny, shocking and chilling stories of my naivete were the white creamy filling. The actual full quote goes like this: “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back.” Meaning, the search for information and knowledge can be daunting, but the lessons learned or satisfaction of knowing the answer is worth it. No animals were harmed in these stories. We actually did not even have a cat. The main consequence being some bruised fingers, a scalded tongue and a temporary slightly damaged pride.
It is probably a good thing that I did not have a little brother or sister to be the unwilling targets of similar pranks and teasing. To my grandkids, friends and co-workers I say, BEWARE!
Dad was right. And Scott was only teasing me like a brother does. Older brothers are usually in charge of making sure the younger ones don’t do stupid stuff. But I hold no grudges and all is forgiven. They both are my heroes to this day. The student in me remembers those lessons and I am grateful. To them I say…JOB WELL DONE!!