When I was in fourth grade, my sister announced some exciting news to me.
"Last night Mom gave me a talk about the Facts of Life".
Holy smokes, I thought, here's my chance for finally figuring this all out! All along my parents knew what the Facts are, and they haven't told me! They've left me to try and hash out this mess for myself. What is school? Why are some people mean? What exactly are all of us doing here, anyway? Mysteries heaped on top of mysteries. What are mosquitos good for? Who invented food? I looked forward to settling some of these confusing questions, now that it was clear that my parents had The Facts.
I approached my dad, and told him that Jennifer had had a talk with Mom about the Facts of Life, and now I wished him to share that knowledge with me too. He agreed, sat at the foot of my bed and told me things about penises, vaginas, various fluids, babies, love, marriage; that kind of stuff. Nothing like the Facts I imagined. Just more mystery and confusion: Who came up with all this scary stuff? Why is it so complicated? How soon before I can use my penis on a woman?
Recovery followed. I didn't have the guts to ask what I really wanted to know partly out of fear that it would let loose another torrent. This whole world and life seemed so odd to me and I wanted an explanation for all of the weirdness. Over the next few years, it would dawn on me that no one really had the answers, no matter how I put the questions.
I've come to peace with the fact that if you follow any chain of inquiry long enough, you end up back at the Old Mystery of "Just why is all of this stuff here, really? And why am I here to comtemplate it all?" I'm no closer to the big Facts of Life, and never will be.
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