All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten: Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things

“As long as life exists, something always happens next. There always consequences—always sequels.”

This quote encapsulates the continuous nature of events, suggesting that life is a perpetual sequence of causes and effects. This idea is reinforced by the assertion that there are “always consequences—always sequels,” which serves as a philosophical reflection on the interconnectedness of actions and outcomes. Fulghum employs parallelism in repeating the word “always,” emphasizing the certainty and inevitability of this ongoing process.

“And then there was the note: ‘Anything not worth doing is worth not doing well. Think about it, Elias Schwartz.’ The Haiho Lama strikes again.”

Fulghum uses irony and a play on traditional sayings to convey Elias Schwartz’s unconventional wisdom. The note introduces a reflective twist on a conventional maxim that encourages readers to question the value and purpose of their actions. By attributing this statement to Schwartz, Fulghum enhances the mystical aura around his character, reinforcing the humorous yet insightful persona of the supposed Haiho Lama.

“Some Angels I know can fix your soles. And mend your soul at the same time.”

Fulghum employs a pun on the words “soles” and “souls” to emphasize the impact of Elias Schwartz’s work both as a shoemaker and a spiritual healer in his community. The wordplay highlights the dual nature of Schwartz’s contributions and elevates the mundane task of shoe repair to a metaphorical act of healing. The concise structure of the sentence mirrors the simplicity and depth of the service Schwartz provides, encapsulating his ability to address both physical and emotional needs.

“Why do it, he was asked: ‘You can’t just sit there.’ When asked if he was scared, he answered: ‘Wonderfully so.’ When asked if he would do it again, he said: ‘Nope.’ And asked if he was glad that he did it, he grinned from ear to ear and said: ‘Oh, yes.’”

Fulghum captures the essence of Larry Walters’ adventurous yet ambivalent spirit. The dialogue, marked by short responses, effectively conveys Walters’ complex emotions: his fear, exhilaration, and eventual satisfaction. The phrase “Wonderfully so” juxtaposed with “Nope” highlights the dichotomy of Walters’ experience: It was both terrifying and magnificent, yet not something he wishes to repeat.

“I guess the depth of his despair matched the height of his imagination.”

Fulghum uses the antithesis between the “depth of his despair” and the “height of his imagination,” to underscore the extremity of Walters’s experience. The estrangement of depth and height suggests that great creativity can come with significant emotional costs. This statement serves as commentary on the often-overlooked consequences of extraordinary pursuits.

“From the ground to the balloon to the man in the balloon to the man on the moon. Yes. Some of us are ground crew—holding lines, building, fires, dreaming dreams, letting go, and watching the upward flight. Others of us are bound for the sky in the far edges of things.”

The progression from “the ground to the balloon to the man in the balloon to the man on the moon” represents the different stages of human endeavor and exploration, from foundational support to reaching for the stars. Fulghum highlights the essential but often understated value of those who provide foundation. Conversely, the idea that “Others of us are bound for the sky in the far edges of things” speaks to those who have aspirations to push boundaries. This dichotomy not only emphasizes interdependence within a community but also celebrates the varied ambitions that propel human progress.

“Why the city is set like cement. Must be a fifty-foot brick wall across midtown. This town’s always locked up for something.”

Fulghum uses metaphors to capture the taxi driver’s perception of New York City as a constricted and unyielding space. This image paints the city as a place of physical and perhaps metaphorical barriers. By describing the town as “always locked up for something,” the driver underscores a sense of ongoing restriction and control, which contrasts sharply with her own resilient nature. This juxtaposition highlights her distinctive approach to life and positions her as a figure who, like a mermaid, fluidly navigates the landscape.

“It used to be that the festival was populated by country folks—pretty straight types—short hair, church on Sunday, overalls and gingham, and all that. Then the long-haired hippie freaks began to show up.”

The passage illustrates the evolution of the festival through the contrast between the initial and later attendees. Fulghum’s use of distinct descriptors employs juxtaposition to highlight the diversity of the festival’s participants over time. The evolution from a homogeneous gathering to a more eclectic one reflects the festival’s ability to adapt and embrace new cultural influences, thereby enriching the communal experience and demonstrating the unifying power of music and tradition.

“Above all, to dance. To shake their tails and stomp frogs and get rowdy and holler and sweat and dance.”

Fulghum emphasizes the primordial and cathartic nature of dance using dynamic verbs such as “shake,” “stomp,” “get rowdy,” and “holler.” This rhythmic, almost chant-like listing of actions evokes the physical intensity of the experience. The repetition of the word “dance” at both the beginning and end of the sequence creates a circular structure that mirrors the cyclic and ongoing nature of the dance itself, reinforcing the theme of communal ritual and celebration.

“It said, ‘some assembly is required.’ To assemble the best that is within you and give it away. Into assemble with those you love to rekindle joy.”

Fulghum plays with the phrase “some assembly required” to craft a deeper philosophical meaning. Initially hinting at the practical task of assembly, he extends the metaphor to the personal challenge of assembling one’s best qualities to share with others. This metaphorical shift emphasizes self-improvement. The directive to “assemble with those you love to rekindle joy” employs assonance and a motivational tone, highlighting the importance of building relationships and fostering happiness through communal interactions.

“It’s about loving something—not just oneself or once family or one’s neighbor. It’s about loving life—about loving this world—and seeing this world as our living room.”

I Fulghum extends the concept of love beyond the personal to the general, using a metaphor to liken the world to “our living room.” This metaphor invites readers to consider the world as a shared space that demands care, just as one’s living room would. By framing the world as a communal living room, Fulghum encourages a sense of collective responsibility and stewardship. This call underscores the essay’s theme of finding broader meaning and connection in our actions and attitudes toward life and the world around us.

“I guess wonder and awe enjoy are always there in the attic of one’s mind somewhere, and it doesn’t take a lot to set it off.”

The image of the attic not only personifies the mind as a space filled with sometimes forgotten treasures but also conveys how easily these emotions can be rekindled. The phrase “it doesn’t take a lot to set it off” employs understatement to emphasize the ease with which these emotions can surface, reinforcing the idea that joy is never far out of reach.

“I cannot resist all that truth and beauty. I just can’t manage to continue sitting around in my winter ash heap, wringing my hands and feeling sorry for myself, in the face of that music!”

This quote uses imagery and a metaphor to express the transformative power of Beethoven’s music. The “winter ash heap” symbolizes a state of despair and stagnation, alluding to the biblical figure of Job, who retreated to a similar space to mourn his catastrophic losses. This offers a contrast with the invigorating effect of the music, which compels him to abandon his gloom. His statement, “I cannot resist all that truth and beauty,” employs anaphora with the repetition of “I cannot” and “I just can’t,” emphasizing his overwhelming emotional response and the irresistible pull of the music’s profound beauty and truth.

“To all those who have kept their promises to themselves—who have managed to defeat destructive demons of many kind, large, and small—let it be known that the rest of us celebrate you. We think of you as heroes.”

This passage employs a tone that is both celebratory and inclusive, recognizing the personal victories over one’s inner struggles as heroic. The use of direct address, creates an immediate connection with the reader, fostering a sense of community and shared understanding. This rhetorical strategy not only praises the resilience of individuals who overcome challenges but also encourages readers to reflect on their own personal triumphs and the struggles they’ve faced.

“Old. We’re old now, thought I. So soon. And it’s all downhill from here. Decay, rot, disease; an early grave.”

Fulghum captures the realization of aging through a reflective internal monologue. This passage employs a descending list of negative terms, decay, rot, disease, and an early grave, to emphasize the inevitable decline associated with aging. The use of parallelism in this list intensifies the sense of deterioration. Additionally, the abruptness and simplicity of the statement “Old. We’re old now,” followed by a personal reflection, effectively conveys a universal, often sudden, acknowledgment of mortality.

“‘What’s it for?’ Mommy didn’t know. Does the giraffe know what he’s for? Or care? Even think about his place in life?”

These rhetorical questions contrast the child’s curiosity with the giraffe’s potential unawareness, prompting reflection on human introspection versus animal existence. This approach highlights the human quest for meaning and purpose, urging readers to contemplate their own life’s significance.

 “Fine trees take a long time. And good neighbors make a huge difference in the quality of life.”

This comparison employs metaphor to emphasize the value of patience and investment in both cultivating relationships and nurturing nature. The phrase succinctly encapsulates a key theme of the narrative: that both elements, trees and neighbors, require time to grow and flourish, significantly enhancing one’s living experience. By linking these two seemingly disparate elements, Fulghum highlights how integral a supportive community and a pleasant environment are to personal well-being.

“She looked carefully for a house with big, beautiful trees in the yard. And before she got serious about buying she went to meet and get acquainted with the neighbors.”

Fulghum accentuates the importance of community when buying a home. By illustrating his friend’s process of prioritizing a personal connection with potential neighbors, Fulghum underscores the importance of community. Here, social compatibility and community atmosphere are as crucial as the physical attributes of a property.

“He’s dead now. I really miss him. I think about him when I cook barbeque—using his recipe for sauce. Mine’s not as good as his. The secret ingredient was his laughter while he cooked.”

Fulghum employs nostalgia and sensory imagery to evoke a deep sense of loss and remembrance. The phrase “the secret ingredient was his laughter” serves as a metaphor that emphasizes the emotional connection embedded in shared experiences, transcending mere physical presence. This recollection underscores the lasting impact of relationships and how memories of loved ones are interwoven into daily activities like cooking.

“‘Flowers?’ he ripostes. ‘Those are weeds!’ He points at my dandelions with utter disdain.”

Fulghum uses dialogue to highlight contrasting perspectives of dandelions. He employs direct speech to depict the clash between Fulghum’s admiration for the plants and his neighbor’s scorn. The use of the word “ripostes” suggests a sharp retort, emphasizing the emotional divide between the characters over what constitutes a weed versus a flower. This moment serves to underscore the broader theme of perspective and value: What one person dismisses as a nuisance, another celebrates as beauty.

“Always trust God. And always build your house on high ground.”

Fulghum presents this maxim, employing parallelism to underscore a dual approach to life that blends faith with practical wisdom. The phrase juxtaposes spiritual trust with pragmatic advice, suggesting the necessity of balancing spiritual beliefs and sensible actions. This literary device not only emphasizes the importance of preparedness and prudence but also reflects Fulghum’s overarching theme that life’s complexities require both faith and foresight.

“And snow—snow is not my enemy, I tell him. Snow is God’s way of telling people to slow down and rest and stay in bed for a day.”

Fulghum imbues snow with a comforting, almost spiritual quality, framing it as beneficial rather than disruptive. Through an informal, conversational tone, Fulghum fosters intimacy and prompts personal reflection on nature’s role in shaping human behavior, advocating for alignment with natural rhythms.

“Once a month we reviewed the world and our lives and explored our positions.”

Fulghum explores deep connections in routine interactions at the barber shop. This line uses synecdoche to transform monthly haircuts into moments of philosophical reflection and camaraderie. Fulghum illustrates how regular, seemingly mundane encounters can facilitate significant discussions on personal and global issues, emphasizing the theme that meaningful insights often arise in ordinary settings.