No, I’m not talking about the presidential candidates– you can draw your own conclusions on that.
But on almost every section of the newspaper, there is a story about a lie.
Front Page: Love and Consequences, a book about a women raised in poverty by a foster family and sold drugs for an L.A. gang was touted as a memoir, but is now being called a complete fabrication. The author, Margaret B. Jones, initially described herself as a half-white, half-Native American girl living with an African American family in South Central L.A. Ms. Jones (whose real name is Margaret Seltzer) was outed by her sister. (Talk about Thanksgiving next year!) Jones/Seltzer is white, grew up with her family in the San Fernando Valley area, was never a foster child, and never sold drugs. The publisher is recalling the books.
The author is not alone in passing on a tragic -to-inspirational story that turns out to be false. Just last week, the book “Misha: A Memoir of the Holocaust Years” by Misha Defonseca was found to be a fake too. And Oprah’s still living down the embarrassment caused by the discover that her book pick, “A Million Little Pieces” by James Frey was made up.
Local Section: Appalachian State University was on lock down yesterday when a student saw a masked gunman on campus. After the recent tragedies at Virginia Tech and Northern Illinois University, everyone took this threat very seriously as police searched the 14,000 person campus. Later, the “witness” admitted the story was a fabrication.
Sports Section: Roger Clemens. Barry Bonds. Really, do I need to say more?
Everyone tells lies. Psychologists say that is part of our society, and that most people tell one or two a day. But these whoppers go way beyond the adamant denial that you drank the last of the orange juice and failed to toss the container.
Congratulations to J.Lo and Marc Anthony on the birth of their twins, named Max and Emme. (I’m guessing they haven’t watched “Dragon Tales.”)
They did decide, in a rather un-celebrity-like way, to give the babies names that 1) most people can spell 2) most people can pronounce 3) most people won’t cringe when they hear it (except those who have seen “Dragon Tales”).
Can you imagine what Seven Benjamin (son? daughter? child of Andre Benjamin & Eryka Badu) will be like at the age of 49? Will Seven be Seven Squared?
Or what will little Audio Science Clayton (son of actress Shannyn Sossamon & Dallas Clayton) think of his name in 6th grade? Or worse, what will the 8th graders think?
Does Apple Paltrow like apples? How does she feel about pies?
When you name a baby, is it a statement? Is it a reflection of you as the parent, or is it about your child? What will it mean for the child whose name sounds like a cartoon character?
Moxie CrimeFighter? We’re talking to you.
Who’da thought it– my youngest son is beating the pants off of everyone else in the Be Active Challenge. I thought my two hours of tennis (don’t tell my husband) a couple of days per week would kick me up, but the little snot (in the loving way that only a mother can describe her child) takes gym every day at school, has started baseball practice, and has the nerve to play outside. It’s a good thing I’m not competitive.
Good thing his stomach hurt today and he had to come home from school early. Ha! No gym and no playing outside for him. Oh, I’m not being supportive, am I? Maybe it’s because picking him up from school meant I didn’t get to work out either! But I’m keeping this all in perspective. Really.
I have a minivan for a reason. I haul numerous children all over creation to get them to school and sports. Yesterday was one of those days. Between 8:00 and 3:15, I went back and forth between schools 8 times (okay, 2 schools twice, 1 school once and one school 3 times), ran errands (mostly for other people) killed time at the mall while my 6th grader was at a dance, rushed back to the school (that 8th school visit) when he suddenly remembered the dance ended an hour early, took everyone home, answered the perennial question of “What’s for dinner,” took them to baseball practice, and a church social. Before it was time to pick the older ones up, my youngest and I cuddled (I was semi comatose) on the couch watching “The Game Plan.” The daughter asks her dad, Joe Kingman, what was the best thing that happened to him. By the end of the movie, he finally got that she was the best thing that happened to him. So after my use-up- a-half-gallon-of-gas-in-one-day day, I looked at my little one, and realized that at that moment, snuggling with her was the very best part of my day.
My grandmother used to say that all of the time. Usually meaning it was beyond her control, and more power to you to go ahead with whatever you were doing. If it was a good thing, she followed with “Y’all GOT it!”My sister and my cousins would snicker (secretly, of course) whenever my grandmother would predictably utter that she couldn’t run it. But now, years after, I truly appreciate that I can’t run all the things I want to run. And yet, I STILL TRY! Why do I feel I can create a path in the Red Sea of traffic when I’m in a rush to get somewhere? Why do I feel I can somehow will the rain to hold off when I’ve got a date to play tennis? Why do I feel that if I worry enough, I’m paying enough penance to make sure what I’m worried about doesn’t happen? What do you try to control? And what things have you just let go?
The New Year is all about fresh starts, second chances and beginnings. For me, it’s working toward becoming a successful commercial writer. Which, in my definition– for this year anyway– means I get to write and get paid fairly for it. Not looking to make six figures (yet). That’s next year’s next. What’s next? For some of my friends, it’s figuring out what comes after being a SAHM. For some, it’s what’s the progression of their career. For others, (okay, me) it’s how to lose 10 pounds by the end of February. So many people I know are going through some kind of transition. I thought it might be a little easier if we went through it together. What’s your next?
I tell one particular lie almost every day without blinking an eye. I lie on application forms, on surveys and always, always on the elliptical machine (okay, I tell TWO lies on that one). I lie about my age. It started innocently enough—after moving to a new city, I began to realize that several of my friends were younger than me. Sometimes we’d talk and I would reference Peter Falk as “Columbo”, or the old school dance, the Bump. My friends would look at me with bewilderment, then surprise as they realized I was older than they thought, and now had to reconfigure their perception of me.
My friends and I are also guilty of perpetuating this conflict. When we hear that an actress is older than we thought (Sally Field is 60 years old? Holy Flying Nun, Batman!) we’ll say how she looks good for her age. As if upon turning the age of 50, she was supposed to have turned into a hag, but somehow has been able to subvert the forces of nature and still look attractive. You know the world isn’t right when Halle Berry is now categorized not as one of the most beautiful people, but as one of the most beautiful people OVER 40!
One thing I’ve recently discovered, however, is that if I really were the age I’ve been claiming, I would have missed out on a few things. I’ve only recently started playing tennis like a mad woman, letting my Serena side come out on the court. Before that, I was still tentative, still apologizing for every mistake I made, still wary of letting that total “leave it out there on the court” mentality to come out. I have more definite opinions about things, and I’m just fine sharing them even before I’m asked. At the same time, I also have more compassion because I’ve walked in more shoes over time. I have more confidence now to do what I think is best—for our family, and for me, and not offer as many excuses or apologies.
It’s my life-training program, if you will, that can’t be put on the fast track. For it’s optimum effectiveness, this portion couldn’t be completed in less than—shall I say it?—44 years.
No, I’m not talking about the presidential candidates– you can draw your own conclusions on that.
