Question everything. Ask lots of questions.

Questions can be more important than the answers because without them there might not be any answers. And they represent the search for more answers.

I could go on. I’m a big believer – a preacher – when it comes to the importance of asking questions.

But then a strange thing happened the other day. I found myself thinking just the opposite. And it’s kind of funny how it came about.

I was chomping on my fourth or fifth whip of red licorice. (Goes well with a couch and TV.) It’s a snack that comes home now and then with the shopping lady (wife). Together we go through a bag pretty quick.

So I’m inhaling the twisted strawberry treats, thinking maybe I should stop soon. Because, because, well, because maybe they are not good for me? A little whisper trickled into my brain and then the big question shouted.

“What am I actually eating?” I suddenly thought. But then, just as quickly, I concluded, “Ahhh, don’t ask. I really don’t want to know.”

I’m thinking now this might be a dilemma, an inner dialogue, that many of us have when it comes to what we toss down our gullets and we reach that fork in the road. (That’s right, I said fork.) When we choose the cowardly path and proclaim to ourselves, “Nope, I don’t want to know.”

So there you go. I might need to adjust my philosophy a bit about asking questions. I might need to add this simple codicil to my advice: Be careful what you ask for.

I know. You’ve heard that before. But this is a bit different. In this case the not asking represents a desire to remain uninformed. Ignorant of the facts. Because ... the facts could be scary. And they might endanger my snacking habits.

Ironically this occasional anti-question philosophy leads to ... that’s right, a question. The question one might ask now is: What are the things you DO NOT want to ask about? Such as, what is licorice anyway? (No-no-no. I will not look it up.)

I suspect you’re also thinking about hot dogs. Those delicious tubes of ... well, you know the stories. Ignore those scare tactics as you prepare arguments for the more critical controversy: ketchup or no ketchup?

What I’m composing here is a real life explanation of that old quip: “Ignorance is bliss.” Sometimes not knowing is a good thing. Right? ... Right? Or wrong?

Oh my. Now I’m questioning myself. Is ignorance really bliss? By the way, that quote comes from Thomas Gray, an 18th century poet who said, “Where ignorance is bliss, ‘tis folly to be wise.”

So at least he endorses the value of occasional ignorance. But … I’m not sure I can. It just doesn’t feel right. I’ve been in the news business way too long to endorse any form of misinformation or to stifle any search for answers.

So here I stand. A hypocrite, I guess. Because I refuse to find out what licorice is made of and what it’s doing to my innards. (No. Do not tell me.)

Moreover, while we’re on the subject, I wish my shopping lady would buy the black licorice now and then. It’s my favorite.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His PaperWork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.