When I learned to read I quickly became a little nerd, reading anything I could get my hands on. It’s amazing what a kid can learn by reading, especially when he finds stuff he shouldn’t be reading.

That’s a topic for another column.

While I have learned a great deal from reading, I’ve learned even more from listening — to parents, mentors, friends and peers.

The earliest bit of wisdom I recall was from my mother. “Don’t tell lies!” she warned as we walked to school on the first day of kindergarten. Her words are well-remembered because I apparently was a bit of a prevaricator at the time. I learned it’s easier to tell the truth in the first place than to try to cover one lie with another.

My father was not comfortable talking to his sons about the birds and the bees but, bless his heart, he tried. The first time I asked Dad for the family car for a date, he resisted until my mother spoke up on my behalf. He finally consented and then sputtered, “Just don’t go do something stupid.”

I resisted the urge to ask Dad to define “stupid.” I understood what he meant and recognized it as wise instruction. However, I kept open my options to do something stupid anyway. A kid must do a few stupid things to brag about when he’s an old man. Look at it this way, we never really grow up, we only learn how to act in public.

When I finally had a full-time job I began accumulating the necessities of life. I recall purchasing a set of laundry appliances and borrowing the money from a local bank. After asking all the necessary questions, the grandfatherly bank officer assured me the bank would loan the money.

Before writing the deposit slip he kindly said, “Don’t be afraid to borrow when you need to, but never borrow more than you can easily repay.”

When I needed a loan in the future I looked up this gentleman and he always gave me the same wise advice which echoes in my memory today.

My first boss was a self-taught radio newsman who understood journalism better than many j-school grads. Early on he cautioned that I would sometimes be asked to cover up or ignore a story.

“Don’t do it!” he said emphatically. Then he gave me an example to consider: “If my grandmother was arrested for prostitution tonight it would be on the news tomorrow.”

Over the years I was indeed asked to keep something off the air or out of the newspaper. Some of the requests came with threats. Though I made some enemies by standing firm, I have never regretted living up to my boss’ standard. My grandmothers’ good behavior made it easier.

Early in my newspaper advertising career my manager taught a valuable lesson about assuming. When he asked about a problem, my response began, “Well, I assumed …”

He stopped me mid-sentence, grabbed a piece of paper and wrote “ass/u/me.” Then the World War II Marine officer pointed to each portion of the word as he snapped, “When you assume you make an ass out of you and me.” A valuable lesson long remembered.

The first time I was asked to teach an adult Sunday school class I told our associate pastor that I was not sufficiently knowledgeable to do so. In response he quoted the old Roman philosopher Seneca who said, “While we teach, we learn.”

I finally accepted the challenge and taught for more than a decade. I learned a great deal preparing for each week’s lesson. In later years I did considerable advertising design and sales training and found Seneca’s wisdom applicable there too.

Our pastor in Sioux City was an avid writer and over the years has won a number of national awards for his work. Periodically we got together for lunch and discussed our common avocation. Early on he shared his philosophy on writing: “To be simply profound, it must be profoundly simple.” Being profoundly simple, that’s been easy to live up to.

The wisdom of wise friends is invaluable. If you have wise friends, listen carefully. If you don’t have wise friends, find some.

It’s true: knowledge talks, wisdom listens.

Arvid Huisman can be contacted at huismaniowa@gmail.com. © 2024 by Huisman Communications.