Nothing About Noise

A Monthly Column By Mike Johnston
I have returned to a state of pristine ignorance. Yet again, I know nothing about nothing.
I've always been acutely conscious of my lack of knowledge, and (ruefully) well aware of my limited ability to redress the problem. I study every day, but I read very slowly, write more slowly, and have a memory that's full of holes. I have limited time for deep reflection, and sleep poorly. I've never read Gibbon, or Suetonius, or Shelby Foote. I suspect I would not do well as a contestant on "Jeopardy," even though I'm an ace from my armchair.
But for a while there, I knew a thing or two about photography. With a degree in it, several decades' worth of experiences of many different aspects of it, a good visual memory, and thorough familiarity with a decent-sized library, I actually knew more about it than some people. I didn't know everything; I didn't know a fist-sized percentage of everything; but I could hold my own.
Well, all that's shot to hell ...