One thing my mother would not tolerate was lying and it has followed me through life.
The only time I was coached to lie was in the early 40’s when Dad and Mom and their friends, Bob and Mary, went to Chicago to see the National Barn Dance, a country music variety show performed in the 8th Street Theater and broadcast on WLS radio every Saturday night. Like all our neighbors, we listened to it every week.
I stayed at Uncle Hookie and Aunt Frannie’s house. My folks knew Uncle Hookie would ask who was doing the chores because the show started at 7 p.m. and it took about three hours to drive to Chicago down Highway 20. Relatives would question kids because we liked to show off with answers. My parents didn’t want it known that they had milked their cows at 3 p.m. instead of 5 p.m. I was to answer, “The Flunky.”
When Ken and I were newlyweds, some of my friends said they put a new dress on layaway and told their husbands the price was what they paid to redeem it. I could see no point in that because the same amount of money came out of their joint bank account. I didn’t spend a lot on clothes but when I did, I took the attitude of the commercial “I’m worth it.”
The only times I lied to Ken was when the kids and I were planning surprise birthday parties for his fiftieth and seventieth birthdays. I found I was quite good at it, which was scary.
I always considered withholding information as the same as lying. I encouraged our adult kids to tell me about their medical trips because you never knew who might have seen you in a doctor’s waiting room or a clinic. Law enforcement people were gossips.
Do you tolerate lies?