The end of my story "The Epistemoligical Uncle":
And so — as the train pulled away past the encouraging and energetic waving of my parents, leaving Judy and the carefree idyll of my youth somewhere behind in the vast stretch of harvest-ripe golden grainland, and moved forward into the wind to begin the long journey to college — I settled into my seat, closed my eyes and for the first time began to realize how little I knew and how uncertain would be the knowing yet to come; so that by the time the train announced its departure from Adam, sounding like the howling of my Uncle Buck, "Do you really knoooooooooow?," I knew I didn't know what had really happened between Judy and me, or why Uncle Buck drank, or what was waiting for me at college.
I didn't know much of anything, though I didn't yet know that this itself was knowing.
xxx
Political pundits never seem to question their certainty.
And so — as the train pulled away past the encouraging and energetic waving of my parents, leaving Judy and the carefree idyll of my youth somewhere behind in the vast stretch of harvest-ripe golden grainland, and moved forward into the wind to begin the long journey to college — I settled into my seat, closed my eyes and for the first time began to realize how little I knew and how uncertain would be the knowing yet to come; so that by the time the train announced its departure from Adam, sounding like the howling of my Uncle Buck, "Do you really knoooooooooow?," I knew I didn't know what had really happened between Judy and me, or why Uncle Buck drank, or what was waiting for me at college.
I didn't know much of anything, though I didn't yet know that this itself was knowing.
xxx
Political pundits never seem to question their certainty.
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