// “A Little Knowledge Can Go a Long Way”//

My Dad never went to college, nor did my Mom- or for that matter, any of my family. They were laborers, my Mom more of an artist at heart. We lived in the country, we lived within our means- and sometimes out of our means. We were not stupid, we had a different kind of knowledge, that which is accumulated through experience and can be applied to real life when you take away the cell phones, the computers, the reality TV and Forever 21. My Father taught me the fundamentals that he knew, all that he knew. He is no genius, his knowledge is that which could help him survive through the easiest and toughest times, the knowledge to change your oil, to make a fire, to endure safety, to persevere, to hike for hours on end without exhaustion or injury, to hear a bird call in connection to the specific bird, to drive a standard, to cook properly (and beautifully) and to enjoy the fine but most simple things in life. My father did not teach me about culture, about literature, about travel. My father was an explorer of what he knew- the knowledge was little about many things but vast about what he understood. For him I am thankful for my grounded personality and ability to live beyond what the media dons as a materialistic life. So I listen to the sounds of the Chickadee while girls around me recap the latest Jersey Shore.