Life Lies.
I don’t lie.
Honestly.
It’s not that I am so righteously moral…
it’s more that I believe that eventually I’ll get caught.
Of course, this doesn’t apply to “Life Lies”.
What’s a “Life Lie”?
It’s something that every one of us has.
Often it’s a made up story that we’ve told so many times…
we start to believe it ourselves.
Maybe it’s an “embellishment” to a story,
to make one’s self sound a little bit more intriguing.
Or perhaps it’s something thrilling that happened to someone we know…
that we’ve taken as our own experience..
Think YOU don’t have any “Life Lies”?
Really?
So what did you say your SAT score was, again?
Yeah…I thought so.
So now, in keeping with The Forever Kid’s approach
of fully opening myself up to all…
I will, in this post, admit to those of you who know me…
3 “Life Lies” that I have perpetrated for years.
With much shame and mortification, I apologize to you all.
1. Mustard
I don’t remember the first time I ever tasted mustard.
But whether it was Gulden’s or Grey Poupon…
I remember hating it.
When others around me would slather their hot dogs
(or worse yet, their knishes!?)
with that yellow slime…
the very smell of it would make me gag.
So to avoid any chance of any hint of mustard ever entering my mouth,
from a very early age,
I began telling people…
I was ALLERGIC to mustard.
I cautiously asked every host and waitperson
if there was any mustard in their Chef’s dishes.
I checked off mustard on “any allergies” on all food surveys.
I may have even informed a doctor or two of my “condition”.
I told that same falsehood for so many years…
that if by some mistake,
I ever did digest a bit of the golden poison…
I convinced myself that I might be getting a “bit itchy” behind my ears!?
NO ALLERGY.
NO ITCHING.
IT’S A LIE!
I AM NOT ALLERGIC TO MUSTARD.
Immoral?
Probably not.
But a “Life Lie” nonetheless.
2. The JV Team
I was a pretty good neighborhood athlete.
Being skinny made me fast.
And my obsession with sports…
helped me pick up all the right “techniques”.
I was always one of the first picked when it came to choosing up sides for…
“two-hand touch football”,
softball,
punchball,
kickball,
and, with all due modesty…
I believe I could have gone pro in stickball.
As I entered my teen years,
basketball became my sport.
Never a great rebounder or ball-handler…
I did have… “The Shot”!!
Without any semblance of form or any graceful arc….
I could swish my “line drive” shots from all over the court.
My specialty was a jumper from top of the key,
(with a mid-air click of my heels, for style points).
As an adult, whenever I join in conversations with the guys
about our youthful sports exploits …
and others talk about their high school varsity highlights,
(or sometimes even playing college hoops),
I modestly share that…
I only played Junior Varsity basketball in high school,
and add that…
I got kicked off the team because I wouldn’t cut my hair.
LIES! LIES! LIES!
I NEVER PLAYED JV BASKETBALL!
I NEVER GOT KICKED OFF THE TEAM…
BECAUSE I NEVER EVEN TRIED OUT FOR THE TEAM!!
(I do think the “long hair” was a nice touch to the story…
adding a bit of rebellion to my “Life Lie”.)
As a postscript to this lie, that is actually true…
but sounds unbelievable…
When it came time to apply for college,
one of the reasons I chose to attend Oakland University (in Michigan)…
(Not that I had too many choices!)…
was that, given it was a small school,
and it would be the very first year that they would have a basketball team…
I actually thought “The Shot” might get me on the team?!?!?
I did, in fact, show up for the tryouts…
as a 5’10”, 127 lb., 16-and-a-half year-old.
and…
there were MEN there!!!
Big, hairy, adult men!!!
Who could dribble and rebound and shoot.
I did not make the team.
Not even the JV.
3. My Confession
My neighborhood in the Bronx was a delicious blend
of Irish, Italian and Jewish.
And somehow, each us who grew up there,
took on bits of each other’s ethnicities.
I was totally fascinated with the customs and stories of my Christian buddies.
I mean there were…
Christmas trees,
Easter eggs,
all those cool Jesus movies,
plus getting to smudge dirt on your forehead on Ash Wednesday!
What’s not to love??
I do remember one time getting a chance to be “on the Christian inside”.
One of my best friends and next door neighbor,
Donny Brady’s older brother Joey had decided to join the priesthood.
Out of a scene from some Scorcese movie…
the neighborhood decided to throw him a going-away party.
All the neighbors jammed into the Brady’s tiny apartment.
There were even some “men of the cloth” there.
How awesome!
We all chipped in a dollar or two
and bought Joey Brady a sturdy set of luggage.
Lots of hugging and handshaking and well wishes.
And Joey was off to the seminary.
Unfortunately…
Joey Brady returned home in a month.
Seemed that the-soon-to-be Father Joseph…
had gotten some young lady “preggers”.
Well…he did get to be a “father”.
But my “Life Lie Confession” has nothing to do with “Father Joey”.
Of all the things that intrigued me about my non-Jewish friends…
what was most mind-boggling was…
the concept of Confession.
As I understood it…
you could screw around all week,
cursing,
answering parents back,
cheating in school,
the occasional petty theft…
and then…
go to see a priest and admit to all that…
and basically, just had to say a couple of prayers…
and all was forgiven!
YES!!!
Sign me up for that!
So that’s what I intended to do.
One afternoon I decided to go along with my friend, Pete Christie,
(that was REALLY his name…no lie),
when he was going to confession at The Church of St. Nicholas of Tolentine
I figured I would make my own confession,
say some “Hail Marys”,
(or maybe for me, “Hail Murrays”)…
and be good for the week.
As I’ve TOLD the story many times over…
I waited my turn,
and after Pete Christie left the Confessional…
I went behind the velvet curtains and waited for that “little door” to open.
When the priest asked me why he never saw me before?
I told him I was Jewish.
And with all caring benevolence,
the good Father suggested that I might be better off talking to my rabbi.
Nice story, huh?
EXCEPT IT NEVER HAPPENED!
NO CONFESSIONAL!
NO BENEVOLENT FATHER!
IT WAS (AND IS) A BLATANT “LIFE LIE”!!!
Now, it is true I intended to try to go to Confession…
but when I got there,
I chickened out,
and waited on the steps of St. Nicholas of Tolentine until Pete Christie came out.
Not much of a story that way.
So today I CONFESS.
Forgive me family and friends for I have sinned.
Three “Life Lies”!!!
But before ye cast any stones…
think about any “Life Lies” that perhaps YOU may have…
And better yet…
share them with me and my readers!
