Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

Someone posted to a mailing list I'm on, with the header "A strange request."

Somewhat gingerly, I opened it. It began with an apology, explaining that zie didn't know where else to look.

The problem turned out not to be embarrassing or personal: the poster needed to know how much direct sunlight any given point on the Moon would get, and was confused by phases of the Moon and Earth-centered references to the "dark side" and the like.

I sent a basic answer, starting with the assurance that "the problem is simpler than it looks," and pulled out my Solar System atlas to check the length of a lunar day, and the Moon's axial tilt. Throw in a warning about shadows, and voila! One problem solved, and a generous thank-you in my mailbox today.

I'm particularly pleased because I'm way behind on the mail for that list, and it's nice to be contributing something useful. Even, or perhaps especially, for someone I don't know at all.

Check everything.

That seems to be my job, again. I had one reviewer who used a two-line quote with--actual count--five errors, not counting getting the title of the book he was quoting wrong. And an acronym someone decided should be spelled out--but leaving an acronym unexplained is better than "explaining" it with an incorrect phrase.

It's nice to know I'm earning my paycheck.

I walked over to ask one of our proofreaders if she had any question about her current project. She was wondering whether two entries were in fact for the same book. We took a look at the ISBNs, and I asked if she knew how they worked. No. Would she like to? Yes.

I did the brief this-is-how-an-ISBN-works discussion: four fields, and it does matter where you put the hyphens. Anna was genuinely interested and pleased to learn this.

Not only is there no useless knowledge, but in the right mood, the right people will smile with pleasure when you explain that 201 means Addison-Wesley, and they'll notice "So that's why Sage has four digits and Mc-Graw Hill only has two."

Some days I really like this job.

So, what did you learn today?

And when's the last time anyone asked you that?

It's been years since I was asked "What did you learn today?," but I keep learning.

Yesterday, at the American Museum of Natural History, my mother asked me and my partner "How do you know all this?" as we talked about the fossil we'd gone to see, and history of dinosaurs, and their relations to birds, and such.

As it happens, my mother has a more advanced education than either of us, and she and I went to the same high school. But I know all this stuff because it caught my eye, and I read about it, and followed cross-references, and go to museums, and otherwise find out more about things because finding things out is fun.

Where does that attitude come from? How can we nurture it? How do you teach curiosity? How do you teach people to look for those connections?

[This started as a reply to a Metafilter thread, and I decided I wanted my friends to see it.]

It still seems to be my job to know everything. My phone rings here at work, and it's a coworker who wants me to remind him the name for "those words like doctor and Ms. that we use in front of names," or one who needs someone else's extension, or the phone number for the fax machine. But when the caller starts with "Ni hao," all I can do is say "I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese" and hope they understand that. Unofficial reference desk, sure, but I'm not a Chinese-speaking travel agency.