being right and the Hardy Boys

The Hardy Boys, Cover 19

I learned about being wrong from the Hardy Boys, those famed teen-aged sleuths who starred in a series of sixty-eight books I started reading when I was in third grade. Actually, it was the Hardy boys' girlfriends who were central to the experience. These characters--burned into my third grade brain indelibly--became as alive for me as my own family. Long after we had moved on to Nancy Drew, my best friend and I got into an argument about the names of Frank and Joe's respective girlfriends. "Frank's girlfriend," I said adamantly, "is Iola. And Joe's girlfriend is Callie."

"No," my reading buddy shook her head, "you have it backward. Frank's girlfriend is Callie and Joe belongs with Iola."

We wrangled. Since there were no smartphones in our lives and no computer in the living room, we resolved to go back to the library the next day. I felt smug. I knew I was right about this important detail. I was a prodigious reader and already known for being "smart," so no way was I wrong about this critical fragment of Frank and Joe trivia!

There it was in writing. I was wrong. I felt a sinking, hot horror when I realized that my friend was right.  Frank's girlfriend--there it was in black and white!--was clearly Callie Shaw. And a quick scramble through the pages gave further confirmation: Joe's was Iola Morton. It was dizzying, this business of being wrong!

Reading the Hardy Boys series probably infused my future self with the urge that I have--yes, even now--to be a completist and a chronologist.*  But that moment of utter shock when I realized I was dead wrong about something where I was absolutely convinced of the opposite….well, that too has impacted my life.  I'm cautious about adamance. I'm wary of being absolutely right (and wary of others who are persuaded they are). There is always some possibility that I've gotten it wrong and there is either new information lurking like a hidden floorboard or some reason I've fixed on the wrong answer. Sometimes I take a little sleuth stance in my head and ask hard questions about the ideas I hold dear.  Is this true? Can you be absolutely sure that it is? Is it possible you're missing some important information?

I'm not suggesting you mire yourself in indecision or ambivalence, especially since decisive action is prized for good reason, but I do suggest a healthy dose of self-doubt.  Especially when it comes to your prized convictions about something. 

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*I love reading a series, but I much prefer reading them all in perfect order and will wait for the final book in a trilogy to be published before I read the first one, just to make sure that I have the whole list appropriately stockpiled.