Fudge Dragons.

​Kristian Baker.
​

Someone asked me about my views on the dog bylaw.  Should dogs be allowed on Nelson’s storied Baker Street?  Should they be on a leash?  Should they wear diapers?  Should owners be fined for not picking up their dog’s crap?  Should the crap be fined?  Should it be imprisoned?  There were too many questions….I couldn’t keep up.
I know that sooner or later, some dog will be on that street.  I know that pooch is going to dump sometime.  Pretty soon one of those Lincoln logs will miss the pickup party.  Pretty soon that Pandora’s Box will open up all pretty and sparkly like a geometry compass and it will smell just like…
…well, I said I had no opinion.  It was the truth, I didn’t.
This someone said I had to have an opinion.  I just had to.   So, I tried.  I tried right there, right in front of her.
It was a bit like cranking a dry pump.  I worked and worked and there wasn’t a damn bit of opinion in there.  What came up was a lot of noise and mud.  And I tried – oh, God did I try.  I wracked my mind for even a shred of opinion.  There was nothing but nothing in there.
Answerless, she left. Her clipboard slapped her thigh as she spurred herself away.
This was not the first time pollsters found me and walked away with nothing.  I have a history of no opinions.  It’s not that I don’t care.  I do care when something awful happens to me or to anyone I like.  When obstacles present themselves, like a leftover fudge dragon, I just go around them and not dwell on it too much.   If I see something rather unsavoury lying on the sidewalk, I ask myself:  “would that be good on toast?” Whether the answer is yes or no, I go on with my day. 
The pollsters find me at home, too.   Sometimes these earnest-looking people come around to my house and ask me how the air quality is.  I figure since I didn’t die choking in the night, the air is still pretty usable and so I say just that. 
I see them struggle with the inability to fit my answer into a checkbox and they go away.
Do I have to have an opinion about everything?  Is everything supposed to be categorized as “good” or “bad”?  Does it all have to be like some binary world where it’s either on or off and all those wonderful grey shades of “I dunno” are just gotten through like a drive through the middle of Saskatchewan? 
Then it hit me:  there is great value in purposely not knowing.  This is the buoy we can cling to while this ocean of information comes a-roaring at us, relentless, with all of its infinite floating bits.  Not knowing introduces wonder into our lives.  Not knowing is mysterious.  Not knowing is being human. 
Not knowing is very different than being ignorant.  Ignorance is a choice, too, but it’s more of a blunt instrument to hurt others or at least bait them into a fight.  Not knowing is a swamp – a gentle, easily avoidable, self-contained, all-permeable swamp.  Anyone can come in and stay for a visit in that swamp and see what it’s all about.  My swamp has a bench and a view, though some people don’t like the view.
Then, there is also great value in having a concealed opinion.  My grandfather said that opinions are like arseholes and nobody really wants to see yours, even if they ask real nice.  If someone does want to hear your opinion, at least try to make it a thoughtful response.  It’s still an arsehole, but it always looks better when it’s wrapped up in bum.