You may have noticed that I write a lot about asking questions; I have noticed this myself. Perhaps you wonder what my obsession is with the topic, and it is just as well you should. In addition to being a writer, I also pose as something of an educator, and my philosophy for learning involves encouraging students to ask questions about themselves, their world, how they see their world, and how others see it.
It took me almost six semesters in college before I really understood the potential impact of the question-asking principle. Burrowing into the fibers of a particular subject leads, at times, to fascination and love for the subject, and such attachment would likely not arise without questions being proffered.
Yes-or-no questions give us quick and easy resolutions. Philosophical questions like "What is truth?" or "What is life?" "What is love?" ("Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more" [from Haddaway's song What Is Love?) lead to long, drawn-out debates and discussion on the metaphysical sinews of being and feeling. Hypothetical questions allow us to ponder what is in comparison to what could be. Rhetorical questions deliberately do not incite a verbal response but rather a mental one.
You know, asking questions, or rather good questions, can even make you famous. Allen Ginsberg, who said, "When can I go into a supermarket and buy what I need with my good looks?" (from poem "America") is one of these. Another is Pablo Neruda, who asked, "Hay algo mas triste en el mundo / que un tren inmovil en la lluvia?" (translation: "Is there anything in the world sadder than a unmoving train in the rain?") (from "III" in Libro de Preguntas).
Another good question-asker was Andy Rooney. A star reporter for many years on the TV show 60 Minutes, Andy Rooney, respected by many people of all classes, denominations, ethnicities, races, and political parties, was always after truth, and his questions were meant to achieve that (Unlike Bill O' Reilly whose questions are usually meant to incite an in-studio riot or emotional argument which will once again serve, in his estimation, to further denigrate the "pinheads" he allows on his show).
I remember once watching Rich Little, a famous impressionist, doing his impression of Andy Rooney and illustrating Andy's uncanny ability to get to the meat of an issue. "Here's few things that bother me," he said in Andy's characteristically nasally voice. "Why do they sterilize needles for lethal injection? Why did kamikaze pilots wear helmets? I don't understand that at all....If you choke a Smurf, what color would he turn?"
Of course, there is some exaggeration there; after all, Rich Little is in the business of not only mimicking but also parodying. However, the principle remains the same: if there are no Nerudas, no Ginbergs, no Rooneys, and no one willing to take their place and ask the questions that need to be voiced, what will become of education then? Our minds will never be enlightened because no one will find the answers to question such as the following?
Where does hope end and faith begin?
Do dreams actually come true?
If Justin Bieber were a girl, would his voice be lower?
Will referees ever call a perfect football game?
Why do women always look like they want to kill someone when they head into the aisle of feminine hygiene products at the store? (Note: that's what we call a rhetorical question)
Is it considered streaking if you run through the pool area of a nudist colony with all of your clothes on?
Why does every Billy Cosby impersonator have to talk about Jell-o?
How does Zorro jump on his horse that way without ever injuring himself?
Would Eminem do better as an announcer at a Thanksgiving all-female dog show, or would he be better off commentating the Kentucky Derby? ("And here comes the filly, Two Trailer Park Girls, running strong; yes, it's Two Trailer Park Girls, and Two Trailer Park Girls goes round the outside, round the outside, round the outside!")
So who will find the answers for us, if you and I are unwilling?
"That, detective, is the right question. Program terminated" (from film I, Robot).
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