Tag: knowledge

An ode to wisdom and stale pastries

“We are not what we know but what we are willing to learn.”
– Mary Catherine Bateson (1939 – 2021) American writer and cultural anthropologist. 

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“When I was 16,” a regular at our weekly ‘coffee committee’ confessed recently. “I was convinced my father was the dumbest human on the planet. So out of touch I could barely tolerate sharing oxygen with him.”

We all laughed. Because we’d all been down that path.

“But by the time I neared 30,” he continued, “I was astounded by how much the old man had learned in just a few years!”

We all laughed again. Because the message was clear — and it was true.

So much so that it triggered memories with me. Of an eye-opening corporate session a few years back. Those mandatory meetings we affectionately referred to as ‘hostage situations with stale pastries.” Fluorescent lights humming louder than the presenter, and your only sane thoughts limited to that lukewarm blueberry muffin on the refreshment cart.

This one was at a gorgeous Arizona resort and featured thrilling agenda titles like “Financial Reviews” and “Insurance Open Enrollment.” But tucked away near the bottom was a mysterious, unelaborated listing that piqued collective curiosity: “The Key to Sure Success.”

“Brace yourselves for the motivational poster speech,” a cynical sales rep whispered behind me.

I tossed my head in a silent chuckle, visualizing a slideshow with soaring eagles and Comic Sans type fonts. Instead, the CEO did something genuinely revolutionary. Passing on any PowerPoint, he summoned two specific people to the front.

The first was a fresh-faced marketing graduate still possessing that unmistakable ‘new car smell’ of university life. The second was a grizzled veteran sales rep already past retirement age who successfully navigated international markets before the internet was even a thing.

Their assignment was deceptively simple. “Tell me three things about the person at the other end of the table,” the CEO instructed. “Specifically, what you hope they will contribute to our corporate success this year, wisdom you want to share with them, and things you genuinely look forward to learning from them.”

And just like that, what was originally slated as a quick, twenty-minute filler between lunch and “New Product Offerings” rapidly rolled into the highlight of the conference.

The room came alive. We weren’t just witnessing a polite, HR-approved exchange of pleasantries; we were watching a cross-generational bridge being engineered in real-time.

The digital-savvy kid with that naive ‘why not?’ energy met the veteran with the priceless perspective of ‘don’t forget why that failed back in ’98.’

You could feel ‘new and shiny’ dancing around ‘been-there-done-that’ and see a mutual face of understanding for the future.

I thought about my dad. Never the type of parent to drop unsolicited ‘Knowledge Bombs’ on me. He quietly dispensed his most profound wisdom in places like the kitchen, usually over a bedtime snack of Post Toasties.

I remembered one night pitching my need for a souped-up hot rod I had to buy. With a world-class, high-powered presentation, I explained how this vehicle would improve my life, skyrocket my social standing, and solve several ongoing global crises.

He listened patiently, finished his cereal, then spoke. “I know that spending your hard-earned money on that car is not a great idea,” he said calmly. “But I also know you’ll probably have to learn that lesson the same way I did—the hard way.”

And time proved him right, of course.

The ‘elephant in the room’ question loomed large with the coffee drinkers last week. Why do we make the same mistake over and over? Why must the newest models of up-and-coming business leaders have to repeat the same mistake with every generation? The ‘silent weedings’ — aka early retirement buyouts offered to seasoned veterans while favoring younger techy corporate models. Hiring managers passing over proven organizational wisdom and knowledge to fill desks with cheaper resume models. All seemingly insistent on repeating expensive mistakes looking for answers to questions knowledgeable veterans have already lived and learned.

The “when I was 16 …” coffee drinker who started the conversation broke the silence. “How about this for a motivational poster: ‘While the view is great from the mountaintop, it’s smart to make the climb with someone who already knows where the loose rocks are.’”

We all laughed one more time. Because we knew somewhere, this same conversation was taking place. One more time.

“You provide the poster next week,” I cheered in support. “And I’ll bring the blueberry muffins.”

—Leon Aldridge

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Leon Aldridge is a veteran editor, publisher, and communications professional, currently enjoying semi-retirement while awaiting his next challenge. His columns appear in: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.

© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Feel free to use excerpts with full and clear credit given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling.’

Learning to ‘give a hoot’

“I must say I find television very educational. The minute somebody turns it on, I go into the library and read a good book.”
— Groucho Marx, (1890–1977) American comedian, actor, writer and avid reader; author of several books despite quitting school at 12 to support his family.

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I read a lot of books. Magazines and newspapers, too. I even read owner’s manuals. At least I used to.

A friend was watching me investigate the cargo area of his hatchback recently to replace a backup light bulb when he spotted a small switch.

“What’s that for?”

“Looks like a light switch,” I said. I pushed it and a small light came on.

“Yep, that’s what it is. I never knew that was back here. How’d you know that,” he asked?

“Just a hunch,” I laughed. “Your owner’s manual will explain everything. I read the owner’s manual with every new car just to become better acquainted with it before driving it.

“Sad part of that is,” I continued, “owners’ manuals have become the latest victim of the shifting paradigms in reading. Manufacturers abandoning printed copies for online alternatives.”

Reading anything is best enjoyed, “in my book,” with the mental and tactile grounding sensations of feeling the book. Measuring my progress by turning the pages.

I love libraries, but some of us miss things progress has pushed aside. Massive wooden cabinets housing Dewey Decimal System cards. Sacred institutions of silence. Where a twenty-pound volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica contained the answer to our every question. Where many of us garnered all the knowledge we needed to run the world using research tools too soon replaced with touch-screen kiosks and “asking the Google.”

Libraries today feel, to me, less like halls of wisdom and more like Silicon Valley startups. Where we once left the library carrying arm loads of books and notes but depart today with everything we need on our phone.

Aging in the digital age isn’t always an overnight process. Much of what we learned scant years ago is regarded today, as my grandmother used to say, “not worth a hoot in a hailstorm.” I never knew what she meant by that, but it wasn’t good. She usually uttered it to express her lack of appreciation for something.

To me, a hoot was always a noise an owl made, but I never heard one in a hailstorm. Or a library. Until last week when it appears that was sort of what really happened at the library in Kilgore, Texas, with the return of a wooden owl stolen from there more than half a century ago.

I lived at the Leigh Apartments across the street from the Kilgore Public Library while attending Kilgore College, long before asking the Google was ever a thing. Many hours I spent there because frequenting that storehouse of wisdom was more accessible and less crowded than going to the KJC library on campus.

According to the recent owl story, a Kilgore family felt compelled to right a 50-year-old wrong by returning the long-gone owl to the library that was mounted on the roof of the building when it was constructed in 1939. No one quoted in the news item by Jamey Boyum at KLTV in Tyler could say exactly why an owl was chosen to adorn the library building, but speculation was that the wise old owl symbolized the wisdom found within the library’s walls.

The owl disappeared in 1975, the story continued, surfacing just recently when Library Director Stacey Cole was contacted by someone saying that a family member who had taken the owl years ago requested before they passed away that it be returned to the library.

Cole was also quoted as saying that the historic figure would from now on be displayed inside, adding with a smile that, “… there would be no late fee charged on the owl’s return.”

I must confess now, that I found that story … on a computer screen. So, yes, I’m working on the transition.

In the meantime, just consider me a “printed paper” soul learning to give a hoot about adapting to a society where the world’s knowledge and news reports follow us around in our pockets.

—Leon Aldridge

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Leon Aldridge is a veteran editor, publisher, and communications professional, currently enjoying semi-retirement while awaiting his next challenge. His columns appear in: The Center Light and Champion, The Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, the Fort Stockton Pioneer, the Elgin Courier, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.

© Leon Aldridge and A Story Worth Telling 2026. Feel free to use excerpts with full and clear credit given to Leon Aldridge and ‘A Story Worth Telling.’