The Truth

The greek word alitheia means 'truth.' I've dedicated this blog to telling the truth about me and those I love - specifically, my son Lukas. Ironically, I'm going to start out by talking about lies. I've told them. I'd bet money you've told them. But then there's the mystery about why we tell lies. I do know that in the fourth grade I told all my classmates one of the greatest lies; I had a horse. Not a make-believe one. A real horse. Looking back I realize the circumstance that prompted me to make up such a fairytale (well, at least to me owning a horse would be a fairytale) was that I didn't fit in. We had just moved, I didn't know anyone, and as usual I was the only Asian in the school. People gave me weird looks as if to say, "So that's what they look like." Obviously, the idea of me having a horse would immediately spark an interest of the most positive nature among my peers and effectively overshadow anything peculiar. But it didn't. After being a teacher of children for several years, one thing I have come to understand about 'coolness' is that if you boast about having something, it better be something that every other kid wants - and can, by some stretch, imagine having.
"I have a horse."
"You have a horse? Oh..."
What I anticipated would be wide-eyed looks of envy only turned out to be perplexed or uninterested shrugs. Horses were of another world to my classmates. I was the only one poring over book after book about horses, cleaning out the library on them, gazing at their manes, eyes, and graceful trots. But it wasn't enough for me to just be fascinated with them. I had to have one, and as long as I others believed I did, life would be tolerable. Well, my lie was ucovered a year later. I still remember it. Stacey Wunderle asked me point blank if I had a horse or not. I told her no. She asked me why I told a lie. I said I didn't know. Perhaps one blessing of our childhood years is that the conversation can stop at 'I don't know' without delving into the psychological roots of messed-up behavior.
So now I have a son, Lukas, and pretty much every day I think of the rules our society has about what is acceptable. Even as an 11 year-old I had a sense that life was about being acceptable by people, and made up lies in an attempt to attain that kind of approval. But with Lukas there is no lying. From one angle, he doesn't lie. He is deliberate in his actions. No shadiness. He will tell you in his own way what he thinks and wants. From another angle, there is no lying about him. I will tell people the truth about him. And I have to admit, I hope these truths reach the many people that wouldn't have given him a chance to live in the first place. More to come...