Someone tells me they’ve been looking for something and can’t find it. I type a few words into a search box and the internet empties its pockets onto my desk.

It happens with A.I. too. “It’s stupid. It never answers my question.” So I ask it about whatever they were asking about, and it answers. At length. Sometimes with sources.

I’m not bragging. Okay, a little. Mostly I’m puzzled that my results are so vastly different than others.

When I say “it’s all about context” or “A.I. can’t read your mind,” people get defensive. They tell me they did give it context. I shrug. That’s usually where the conversation ends.

So I’ve been wondering if it’s me. Maybe I learned to look for things in a way nobody teaches anymore.

I’m old enough to have done research in a card catalog. Long wooden drawers, little brass pulls, and a metal rod through the bottom of the cards so nobody could walk off with one. You looked things up by author, title, or subject. If you didn’t know any of the three, the drawers had nothing to say to you. You learned quickly to think about how somebody else would have filed the thing you wanted. Then a Dewey decimal number walked you to a shelf, and half the time the book next to the one you came for was better.

I have a degree in English Literature from before the internet. (People are always surprised by the degree. I like that.) Nearly every class was research and argument. Find the sources. Decide which ones to trust. Make your case.

Encyclopedias worked the same way. One entry said “See also,” and you went, and then that one said “See also,” and an afternoon was gone.

And then there was Sunday School. The teacher called out a verse and we raced to find it. I was very good at this. I wasn’t holier than anybody. I just knew the order of the books cold. Ruth comes right after Judges. You don’t flip. You go. (Mostly. I recently learned a few of the minor prophets have fallen out of my brain’s index cards entirely.)

I have no idea if that has any bearing. I suspect it does.

Every one of those tools made you meet it halfway. You had to know how the information was arranged, and you had to ask in its language. A search box and a chat window are friendlier. They look like they’ll understand whatever you type, and they’ll try. But underneath they’re still drawers, sort of, and what comes back depends on which drawer your words open.

That’s my theory, anyway. It’s also possible I’m just stubborn and keep asking until something gives.

I’m grateful to every librarian who let me sit on the floor between the stacks, and to a Sunday School teacher who turned the Bible into a race.