You’ll Never Know, by Betsy

I’m always fascinated by new information, new knowledge, new
happenings. There have been a lot of new things to think about particularly in
recent weeks— dramatic events taking place across the globe—much of this has
gotten everyone’s attention.  In recent years,
new knowledge about our universe, our solar system, galaxy, and outer space has
gotten my attention.
Take the universe, for example.  Science has recently learned that our
universe is expanding at an ever-increasing rate of speed.  It is because of this expansion, that our
universe will eventually die, they say—latest estimates are about 300 trillion
years from now. That will happen, of course, long after the death of our solar
system.  And that death will come long
after the death of our planet. Scientists believe the energy for this expansion
comes from dark matter. We used to think that space—the darkness between the
stars and other bodies we see in outer space—we used to think it was just
that—space, emptiness.  But now it seems
it is some sort of energy now called dark matter. The nature of this energy,
unfortunately and most likely, we will never know. Or maybe we will learn some
things about it in our lifetimes, but not much. 
What I do know is that in this current life I will never know, you will
never know, we will never know all there is to know about dark matter. Come to
think of it we’ll never know what it is that we don’t know, will we, or even
how much we don’t know.
Just as engaging are some of the recent events that have
taken place in the U.S. and around the world. 
The events are not so fascinating to me—horrific as they may be.  It’s people’s reactions to the events that
intrigue me—especially some of our leaders.
I am more than mystified that over 30 governors have stated
that no Syrian refugees will be allowed into their states. The rest of the
country says they are welcome. The 30 say it is to keep their people safe. I
understand wanting to keep your people safe, but I don’t understand why it is
Syrians who are the ones to be kept out. The Syrians are not the terrorists.
They are the refugees, most of them widows and orphans trying to escape the
horrors. The terrorists are from other countries. Yes, the ISIS headquarters
are in Syria at the moment, but don’t our governors understand that the
perpetrators are not necessarily Syrians?
If refugees are to be allowed entrance into the U.S. they
must be screened, re screened and screened again. This, I understand, is the
current process. But it does not make sense to me that while a Syrian family
sits waiting for 2 years for numbers of background checks to prove they are
harmless to Americans, anyone in the U.S—anyone and everyone—regardless of who
they are—almost anyone can buy an assault weapon—a weapon designed for killing
people. No questions asked.  Why do we
have a system like this?  I will never
know, you will never know, and we will never know.
Also on the list of mysteries is the responses of most of the
Republican presidential candidates to the acts of terror happening around the
world and how they would keep their people safe were they, God forbid, to
become president.  Rounding up all the
Muslims and kicking them out is probably the most outrageous. Again, that only
feeds the conflict, which  is what ISIS
and all the terrorist organizations are hoping for. 
How ‘bout we only allow Christians into the country. I don’t
need to describe the problems with that plan. What I will never know is how to
answer questions like: do they really think all Americans are Christians. I’m
mind boggled. 
What are people thinking? Or are they just not thinking? Or
are they just playing politics.  I wonder
if I will ever know, if you will ever know, or if we will ever know.
© 23 Nov 2015 
About the Author 
 Betsy has been active in
the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver Women’s Chorus, OLOC (Old
Lesbians Organizing for Change), and the GLBT Community Center. She has been
retired from the human services field for 20 years. Since her retirement, her major
activities have included tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a
volunteer instructor with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, reading,
writing, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage.
She has a close relationship with her three children and four grandchildren.
Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her
life with her partner of 30 years, Gillian Edwards.

You’ll Never Know, by Gillian

No, I probably won’t, but I suspect that expression might soon need to be protected under the Endangered Species Act. It surely must be close to extinction. Extremely popular as recently as our younger days, attitudes have changed so much that people rarely say, or even think, these days, you’ll never know … whatever.

Not only people, but computer systems, know more about us than we do ourselves. King Soopers knows what I eat, Argonaut knows what I drink, Amazon knows what I read. A part of us seems to resent and fear this, yet we relentlessly feed the world endless information.

We shout everything from the rooftops. We tell everyone everything, from inane trivia to what would once have been deep dark secrets.

Take Facebook for instance. (Please, take it! I don’t want it.) So many people telling me so much more than I could ever need, or want, to know. Am I supposed to be enthralled by the final success of some friend of a friend’s grandchild’s potty training? Or someone whose name means nothing to me proclaiming that he, without fail, flosses his teeth six times every day? Or the myriad of lunatic responses to this claim from people I don’t know and don’t want to know?

I’d like to say that I hate Facebook, but in all honesty I simply stay away from it so I’m not involved enough to hate it. I do, however, regret the way in which it has created impersonal communication from the personal.

Once upon a time – and not so very long ago – cousin Fred would send a postcard when he visited New York. It would have the same tired photo of the Empire State Building on the front, and some version of wish you were here on the back. Nevertheless, how nice of him, you would say, to think of me. It was personal. It made you feel good.

Now, you look at Fred’s photo-journal on Facebook, detailing his trip to Bangkok. He recounts every event of every day, down to what he ate for dinner. You can imagine his trip much more vividly then you did from the old postcards, but what happened to that warm fuzzy you used to get from them? What happened to the personal touch? What happened to that oh how nice of you to think of me feeling? I haven’t a clue whether he ever gave me a thought or not. He sent this report out into the ether to be read by anyone who cared to do so. I would really get more out of a boring photo and a banal message; at least it was for ME.

A while back I heard via a mutual friend that a good friend of mine had just returned from New Zealand.

‘I didn’t even know she’d gone to New Zealand!’ I wailed.

‘It’s all been on Facebook,’ she replied, looking pitying and puzzled as if I’d just told her I couldn’t read.

A couple of weeks ago, a group of old lesbians Betsy and I belong to were joined for lunch by a few teenagers who shared with us their experiences with being …. um …. and here I shall begin to flounder because I am not too sure what they would consider the politically correct terminology. My apologies to any of you wonderful young people who happen ever to read this, which I think highly unlikely. I think their version of the alphabet soup was LGBTQIA+, the QIA being questioning, intersex, and asexual. What an education these kids are. They talk with assurance about identifying as gender-queer, gender-fluid, non-binary, and half the time I’m not sure even what they’re saying. It’s another language. And here we were, many of us in this room, when we were that age, ignorant of even one word to describe what we knew, at some level, ourselves to be. I recall that huge hurdle, as it appeared at the time, we had to leap in order simply to inform others that we were attracted to those of the same sex, or that we were trapped in the wrong body. Can you even begin to imagine trying to explain to your parents that you are never sure, at any given moment, whether you will feel that you are female or male, or to which sex you may feel attracted. Or that you chose not to identify as any gender. You just are.

For some of them, their preferred pronoun is ‘they’ rather than he or she, which is vaguely possible in the English language but when I try it I find it very confusing.

It was all starting to make my head hurt.

Don’t get me wrong though, I have every admiration for these young people: out to the world, apologizing for nothing, completely proactive on their own behalf. I’m not foolish enough to think it’s easy for them, but none of them is ever going to think, in some secret, inner, self, you’ll never know ….

Everyone knows, and I bet they’re all out, loud and proud, on Facebook.

Perhaps, if I used Facebook, I would be more familiar with the the language of today’s LGBTQIA etc. youth, though I am not ashamed to admit my deplorable ignorance face to face.

Maybe I just have to accept that if I am to keep up with what is happening in the world in general, and with those nearest and dearest, I shall have to resort to Facebook. But I’d still rather receive a postcard.

© November 2015

About the Author

I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have been with my wonderful partner Betsy for thirty years. We have been married since 2013.