We lived in a big, drafty house on the outskirts of a small town in rural New York state. The doors were never locked. Locks had been built into each of the wooden entry doors, but the skeleton keys that fit them were lost long before we moved in. This was the first house my family ever owned.

I suppose the pressure was too much for my stepdad because he left us six years later. It was because of this that my mother started working again. She had a job as a bank teller when she met my stepdad, but quit right after they were married. Now she was a bookkeeper at the local factory.

We were poor, but our ignorance of this fact sheltered us. I started earning my own money at the age of eight, selling garden seeds in the spring, mowing lawns in the summer, raking leaves in the fall, and shoveling snow in the winter. Shortly after turning eleven I began earning steady money, about four dollars per week, delivering newspapers to almost every house in town.

It was this situation that necessitated my first credit arrangement. I needed a large wagon to carry the sizable Sunday papers my customers expected to find on their front porch when they awoke. The deal was sealed by a handshake with the proprietor of the town’s only hardware store. With two dollars down and an agreement to pay one dollar each week, I went home with the biggest wooden wagon in the store.

To say that times were simpler back then is a serious understatement. For instance, there were only three channels on television and they went off air at eleven o’clock each night and came back on at six in the morning. The first and last program on each of those channels was the news. Saturday morning was dedicated to kids with cartoons and shows like The Little Rascals.

The telephone was attached to the wall. Each home had their own number but the line itself was shared. I remember my mom picking up the phone to make a call and finding one of our neighbors already on the line. She’d join in the conversation for a bit and then hangup, leaving them to finish their call. Rarely was there a reason to ask the neighbor to relinquish the line.

Fast-forward to today with hundreds of channels on the TV and a phone in your pocket. Communication is instantaneous and information is available at the touch of a button.

I don’t remember when I first heard the aphorism “knowledge is power” but I do know I’ve been hearing it for quite a few years. I always assumed it meant the people who had the knowledge had the power, but I’m not so sure that’s correct anymore.

Now it’s becoming clear, the more knowledge a person possesses the weaker they are. When I was young we didn’t have much. We also didn’t pay much attention to what we didn’t have. We weren’t oblivious. There were many who had more than we did. That was nice for them, but it wasn’t necessarily bad for us.

It wasn’t too long ago that we lived in communities. Now we exist in an economy. A community is where people live, while an economy is where we shop. The purpose of the community is significantly different than the marketplace. It is this difference that distinguishes the type of knowledge shared by those in positions of leadership.

To lead a community requires a focus on shared ideas and ideals. To attain economic leadership necessitates an awareness of imbalance. The more knowledge a population has regarding their deficiencies, the greater will be their sense of need. Today we know what we’re lacking in every area of our life and work.

What is the knowledge that drives your decisions? Do your thoughts bring you comfort, causing you to feel connected to life? Or are you worried about what you don’t have, fearing that others might think less of you, leaving you feeling dissatisfied and anxious?

Do you need a $60,000 car? The economic viewpoint says you should purchase the biggest house and most expensive car you can afford. The community view wants you to know you can be happy with a heck of a lot less.

Do you have an insatiable need to know every detail? Perhaps you might be willing to give up some of that thirst for knowledge.

You may have heard that happiness is a choice. Maybe it’s a choice available only to those who choose to remain blissfully ignorant. Those in the know don’t have time for happiness. They’re too busy chasing after all the stuff that’s supposed to bring them happiness, eventually.