I've heard that, but since I'm computer illiterate I don't know

There are moments in history when a simple statement, spoken with humility, reveals a great truth about the human spirit and its endless capacity to learn. The musician and actor Bobby Sherman, reflecting on his early encounter with technology, once said: “I've heard that, but since I'm computer illiterate I don't know how it all works. But since I'm on Prodigy tonight, I'm learning a lot through my typist, Peter.” What seems at first a lighthearted confession becomes, when looked upon deeply, a parable about adaptation, humility, and the courage to learn in a changing world.

The meaning of these words lies in the acknowledgment of one’s limitations — and the willingness to move beyond them. Bobby Sherman, once a star of music and television, was a man from an era when the tools of communication were voice and touch, not screens and circuits. To admit that he was computer illiterate was not a surrender, but a moment of self-awareness. And more importantly, in the same breath, he declared that he was learning — not alone, but through the help of another. This is the spirit of progress: to recognize ignorance not as shame, but as the first step toward wisdom.

The origin of this quote comes from the dawn of the digital age, when the world was first awakening to the power of the internet. The service Prodigy, one of the early online networks of the 1980s and 1990s, connected people in a way humanity had never seen before. Many who had lived their lives in the physical realm — building, performing, creating with their hands — suddenly faced a new frontier made of data and screens. For a man like Sherman, whose career was forged in the world of live performance, this transition was monumental. His humility in admitting what he did not know is itself an act of courage in the face of change.

There is a timeless wisdom here that mirrors the lessons of the ancients. When Socrates said, “I know that I know nothing,” he was not boasting of ignorance, but embracing the truth that knowledge begins in humility. So too did Sherman, in his playful way, express a sacred openness to learning. His “typist, Peter,” becomes a symbol of the teacher, the guide who helps bridge generations — the old learning from the young, the analog learning from the digital. Just as disciples once learned at the feet of philosophers, Sherman learned by watching the fingers of another move across the keys, translating his words into the new language of technology.

History offers countless examples of such transitions. When Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press, many scholars of the age resisted it, fearing it would cheapen knowledge. Yet those who adapted — who learned to wield the press — became the first great communicators of modern thought. When electricity transformed industry, some craftsmen clung to their tools, while others learned to harness the current. Every age brings its new instrument, and every human soul must decide whether to fear it or learn from it. Bobby Sherman’s humility in the face of the computer is a reflection of this eternal crossroads — the moment when the world changes, and the heart must follow.

In his words also lies a deeper message about interdependence. In the ancient world, no one learned alone — the craftsman had his apprentice, the philosopher his student, the bard his listener. Sherman’s reliance on Peter reminds us that learning is a shared act. It is through connection — between teacher and learner, between generations — that knowledge passes and civilizations endure. The student of life does not stand apart in pride, but sits beside another in fellowship. Wisdom, like light, spreads best when shared.

Let this be the lesson to all who live in an age of change: never be afraid to admit what you do not know. The world will always move faster than our comfort, and every generation will face new tools, new ideas, new mysteries. What defines us is not mastery of them all, but the willingness to learn, to ask, to listen. As Bobby Sherman so humbly showed, even a man who once ruled the stage must sometimes become a beginner again. And that is no fall from grace — it is the path of growth. For the soul that keeps learning never ages, and the heart that seeks to understand never truly fades into the past.