The First Lie
I am quite certain that any of you reading this blog have inevitably found yourself at one time or another on both sides of a lie; either the telling thereof or the recipient of. There are as many degrees of comfort and skill in lying as there are people who draw breath. Some start at a very young age, are very comfortable with it and so skilled that it just seems to come naturally to them. Others will go to extremes to avoid being anything but truthful and if ever hard pressed to tell a lie they do it so poorly no one within a fifty mile radius would believe their story. Then there is the middle of the roaders which is where most of us fall using little white lies interchangeable with social etiquette. Hard as it is to admit, we have all lied and we all know it is wrong.
The first time I remember being conscious of a lie, I was on the receiving end of it and it was served compliments of my younger sister. We were about four and five when this happened and while I will reserve my comments pertaining to her lying skill level in those days, I will just say she knew how to work a crowd. It was a big night, my godfather and his wife were coming over for a visit. We did not get much company in those days and being young and very excited we were wound up tight. Dad advised us a couple of times from the living room that it would be in our best interest to settle down, we however in our infinite wisdom thought dad wouldn’t mind if we just continued to ignored him a bit longer. Well, as it turned out our wisdom was not the sound thinking we thought it was and the next thing we heard was dad coming down the hallway. (FYI that was never a good thing!). This time the scolding was a more than a bit louder and it was accompanied by “the dad look”. We were told in no uncertain circumstances, to put on our pajamas and quiet down or we would spend the rest of the night in bed with no visiting privileges.
That’s when it happened. As dad turned around to leave, my sister said very loudly, “No damit!”. Dad stopped so fast his slippers screeched like tires on asphalt and to this day I remember seeing smoke coming off his heels. He turned around and said, “Who said that?!”. I didn’t say a word, I just sat there not believing what I had heard, my sister however, very eagerly spoke up and said, “Tracy said it”. I could not believe my ears, betrayed by my own sister! I, as you can imagine, immediately began pleading my innocence but my efforts proved futile as the more I pleaded with my dad to believe me, the more my very cute younger sister condemned me to punishment. I was properly spanked and sent to bed for the rest of the night not allowed to partake in the festivities. I laid in my bed all night crying, forced to listen to my sister giggle as everyone made over how cute she was.
To this very day, my sister still laughs over that night. She tells that story to anyone who has not previously heard it and she is still quite proud of herself for her academy award-winning performance that night. If I were being honest and truthful, I would tell you that I am still a bit bitter over the whole ordeal. OK, ok, I am still more than a bit bitter, but I digress. Years later when my sister told the truth about that night, my dad came to me later and said he was sorry that he didn’t listen to me but he wanted me to remember something always that came from that night. He said many people would tell lies about me throughout life, and when they did rather than start defending myself, say nothing. Give a liar enough time and enough rope and eventually they will hang themselves because the truth always prevails.
Until we meet here again, I pray God bless you and keep your loved ones safe.