When you hear someone say "I hate butterbeans, country music, democrats, the color orange," or whatever, does it irritate you? It drives me nuts. I try to smile pathetically, instead of saying something like "Well, you're an idiot," or "Who the hell cares?" or "Well, they ain't so crazy about you, either."

This was the train of thought that segued, late at night, into thinking about the many worlds of people out there that I don't know, and especially those worlds that I don't know I don't know, and therefore don't think about. There are concentric circles within each of those worlds, of course. Start with a large world of, say, music. Within that are not just genres, but divisions such as listeners, performers, teachers, collectors, concertgoers, directors, producers, sellers. I belong to a small world of folk musicians that overlap the worlds of guitar, banjo, mountain dulcimer, hammered dulcimer, singing, tin whistle and kazoo. Within each of those worlds the true believers favor even smaller groups that favor more or fewer strings, frets, picks, or noters, or combinations or fractions thereof. If I'm not asleep yet, I can start over with the worlds of horses, cars, flowers, art, literature, politics, and go on until morning. Tonight I think I'll start with desserts.