How Do I Know What I Know?

My immediate thought when I read the title of this blog was of Death. Death is something I knew about and understood only vaguely after I found out about it at some point in my childhood. However, it was always a distant concept, and one that only affected my loosely and indirectly, if at all. I didn't think about it much, and I can't even remember the point where I found out about Death, and how it is inexorable for everybody. In trying to remember the point that this realization occurred, I was reminded of this quote from the book Wicked, where the Wicked Witch's son (possibly), Liir, is questioned by the mean-spirited children of Fiyero's widow, Sarima (and possibly his half-siblings) on the roof of the castle of Kiamo Ko:

***

"Is the broom magic?" said Manek to Liir.

"Yes. It can sweep the floor real fast." 

"Can it talk? Is it enchanted? What does it say?"
They got more interested, and Liir bloomed and blushed under their curiosity. "I can't tell. It's a secret."

"Is it still a secret if we push you off the tower?"
Liir considered. "What do you mean?"

"Will you tell us or we'll do it."

"Don't push me off the tower, you oafs."

"If the broom is magic it'll come flying by and save you. Besides, you're so fat you'll probably bounce."

Irji and Nor laughed at that, despite themselves. It made a very funny picture in their minds.

"We only want to know what secrets the broom says to you," said Manek with a big smile. "So tell us. Or we'll push you off."

...

Liir's face had, in a matter of moments, developed deep black pockets under the eyes. He held his hands down by his sides like a traitor at a court marshall. "The Witch'll be so mad at you that she'll hate you."

"I don't think so," said Manek, taking a step forward. "She won't care. She likes the monkey more than she likes you. She won't even notice if you're dead." 

Liir gasped for air. Although he had just peed, the front of his baggy trousers turned dark with wet. "Look, Irji," said Manek, and his older brother looked. "He's not even very good at being alive, is he? It's not like he's even very good at being alive is he? It's not like it would be much of a loss. Come on, Liir, tell me. What did the damned broom say to you?"

Liir's upper torso was going in and out like a bellows. He whispered, "The broom told me--that--that--you're all going to die!"

"Oh, is that all," said Manek. "We already knew that. Everybody dies. We knew that already."

"You did?" said Liir, who hadn't. 

"Come on," said Irji, "come on, let's catch some mice in the pantry and we can cut off their tails and use Nor's magic straw to prick their eyes."

***

That passage had always been really striking to me. The fact that Liir, who had grown up for seven years with only the silent and sullen Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) and a community of Unionist Maunts for company, had simply no idea that everybody died. Then, confronted with the information gathered from the broom, and the prospect of his own death, he was forced into this realization. In the sequel, Son of  a Witch, this realization is solidified seven years later by the experience of Elphaba's death in the hands of the stranger Dorothy. This is the first time that Liir is coming into contact with Death, the first time that somebody he is at least sort of closed to, or somebody he depends on, is really gone. Although the other inhabitants of the castle (the children, Sarima, and her five sisters) had been captured earlier by the Wizard's army, he at least had some hope of their return.

Liir's experience shows that there are basically two ways that we gain information. We can learn it by first hand experience, or we can learn it by what we're told, or second hand experience. In Liir's case, it was both, and I think that's how it goes for a lot of people with knowledge, especially Death. A better title for this blog would be How Do I Understand What I Know?, really. We know what we know from what we're told at a young age. It's not until we grow older and experience things for ourselves, until life happens to us, that we can fully understand what we know.

In my case, I didn't fully grasp the notion of imminent Death until my cousin died earlier this year. She passed away after losing a long battle with heroin addiction. She was 24 and died alone in a motel room, leaving behind a husband and four children. Her funeral was the first that i've ever cried at.

Her death was jolting for me. I felt like Liir, bewildered, wide eyed, trying to make sense of unexpected  and frankly terrifying events. Except I didn't pee my pants.