How old was I? Was it fourth, or fifth grade? Some parent decided to start a Girl Scout troop. All the girls were excited, even me.The first two meetings were fun... orientation, punch and cookies. We each were given a handbook, I stayed up all night reading mine.
As a burgeoning troop, we met each week at a local church. On the third week, our den mother was late, what to do?
Karen Simmerman whispered,"the basement door is always open", she knew because her father was the pastor of the church. "Come on, I'll show you.", and we all followed her down the steps and into the building. "Come in here, I want to show you all something". We troupted single file into a large dimly lit bathroom. The light from two high window reflected off the opposing white tiled wall and onto the floor, she didn't turn on the lights.
From somewhere on her, Karen produced a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes and a book of matches. Nobody said a word. "There's one for you, and you, and you." She lit her cigarette first to showed everyone how proficient she was at smoking. I knew better... besides, I could chew, or use snuff and never get in trouble. My grandmother never ask about those two things, only if I smoked. I let Karen light my awkwardly held cigarette knowing full well the consequence if my grandmother found out, or ask me.
We all were puffing, trying not to cough, and talking a mile a minute when the lights were turned on. Wish I had a picture, god only knows where all the cigarettes went. Den mother lined us up against the wall, the sun in our faces. The light was so bright, I could hardly see a thing. I was first or last in the line depending on where Den mother stood. She walking up and down the line, just my luck, she stopped and faced me. She asked, "Have you been smoking?" Knowing good girl scouts never lie, "Yes mam", I said.
She stepped to Karen and asked, "Have you been smoking?" Karen answered, "No!" I couldn't believe it, getting in trouble for smoking was bad enough, but lying...the girl was going stright to hell, we were in a church for christ sakes. Den mother asked each of the other girls. With each answer "No", my heart beat faster and yet sank.
That day was my last day of being a Girl Scout. From that day on I knew that I was a true Girl Scout in my heart, even though I never got to put on the uniform. Many times I ask myself, if I could go back and answer again, would I change my answer? No, not in a million years. Oh! I didn't get a switching, because I told the truth. My mom and dad, and grandma believed me, that was all that was important anyway.
16 comments:
Reminds me of my nephew when he was five. Knee high to a grasshopper, the little guy peeked through the keyhole in his mom's door to see what was happening inside. His step dad felt that someone was peeping, went to the door and, of course, my nephew was already sitting in the chair, pretending to watch television. When told that if he told the truth, he wouldn't be punished, he was asked the question, "Were you peeking through the keyhole" The little guy replied, "Yes, I did" With that, he was soundly punished and sent to bed for the rest of the day. From there on in, he lied steadily until he became a chronic liar. You did the right thing for telling the truth and your folks did the right thing for not punishing you because you told the truth. If you could see my thumbs, you'd see a two thumbs up for all of you.
Thanks! I use to pretend like I didn't care, it didn't hurt, but it did.
Have you ever seen people do that to their dogs? The dog is out running, and doesn't come to the first call or two. When the dog does return, it gets a beating.
Sorry about your nephew, it's a real shame. Lieing is a habit, a bad habit. Sad to say, we live in a world of lies.
Do I lie? Sure I do, I'ed be a liar if I said I didn't, we all lie. My problem is tell the truth when I really should lie. It's a habit not to, not a smart habit in this day and age. It doesn't get you very far, but I sleep well at night, unless it's really cold:)
Sometimes, it's not easy to tell the truth. The truth often times exposes the true us. I often times say, "It doesn't bother me any more" but it does. Self defense mechanism? I don't know. I do lie to spare someone's feelings, I guess we call those "little white lies" Like my Aunt Betty and her pink hair. She asked how it looked, all smiley and giddy and everything. How could I burst her bubble? I smiled and replied, "I think it's refreshing, it makes you look so light and airy and fits your personality so well!" When the truth is, I wanted to say, "Oh Aunt Betty! You remind me of pink cotton candy"
Yes, we all lie.
Sorry about the delete. I made a typo and just had to correct it. lol
When some people call me and ask, "How are you doing? I say, "I'm fine, everything is just fine." It's a lie, but why upset them? There is nothing they can do anyway. Sometimes I can get away with, "Don't ask!" and change the subject right away.
Like Cotton Candy Aunt Betty, I have seen that shade of pink...also in blue:) If and when I ever get her age, I'll go natural, you can call me Qtip.
I think we are forgiven for the lies told to prevent hurt feeling and the ones that, if answered honestly, would be cruel. I call them understandable lies. Most people can understand the reason if you are ever caught in one. But the ones told for personal gain, to hurt someone or for no honorable reason, they are the work of the devil.
It reminds me of a young patient who had a chronically high blood pressure. Once again, she was in the hospital for not taking her meds. When I asked her about illegal drugs, she replied "Yes. I gets me a rock two or three times a week and I smokes weed every day." To which I said "You mean to tell me you have money to buy dope but you don't have three dollars to buy yourself medicine that will save your life?" She said "yes". I replied "Well at least you are honest about it" and went right on to the next question.
There is a lot to be said for honesty as well as understandable lies.
Lies are a paradox for sure...
I have learned the hard way never to believe a crack head, no matter how much truth is sprinkled in.
How do you cope being in the mist of it all?
The truth is CRUEL, that's why it's called TRUTH. Sometimes we are strong enough to accept it, sometimes not.
if you're still in love with mr. crack, I think it speaks highly of your love...
Love doesn't die.
To see loved ones sell their soul(self) for a moment of relief from the pain of life is ...
you used a word, but I can't think of it at this time.
God, why bless me to choose the pain of reality?
My six year old step-nephew used to spend a lot of time with me. Unfortunately, the step side of my family are very blunt people. I don't think they ever roll a word around their brain before it flies out of their mouth. People like them cause a lot of hurt feelings. Well, my nephew and I were cleaning up his toys one day and all of a sudden he blurted out, "You have a really big butt!"
Although many may see this as cruel, I call it tough love and that's what I gave him. Out of the blue I replied, "We'll you have a big ugly nose" With that, he got all sullen and pouted up to me, "I don't have a big ugly nose"
Letting him think about it for just a minute, I sat him down beside me, "That really hurt when I said those mean words about your nose didn't it?" He nodded. "That made your tummy feel so sad didn't it?" He nodded.
I proceeded to explain that his nose is not ugly, but I find it to be a very beautiful nose. I admitted to him that I lied and how lies hurt and that sometimes when we say things about people, even though it's the truth, you can make that person't tummy feel very sad too. Just because you think something, doesn't mean it's ok to say it.
He truly understood, we hugged and all was good. I realized that my little lesson sunk in when his Grandma brought him out to the house to visit again.
He came running into the house, happy to share something with me, "Grandma and me were eating taffy and she tried to take it out of her mouth and her teeth came out too! But, I didn't say Grandma you look funny with no teeth. I said, Grandma you have a nice smile! I didn't make her tummy feel sad at all!"
Mind you, she was still standing there as he told me the story and though red faced, she joined me in praising him for sparing her feelings in such an embarassing situation. I am proud to say that as the others still continue to blurt out the first thing that comes to their minds, my nephew has grown to be such a considerate young man. Maybe my little lesson in lies and truth stuck with him all these years?
Susan, At one time I would have been very judgemental about someone using any type of recreational drug. I am totally straight-laced in that regard. Now I just accept it as a reality of life.
When the AIDS epidemic hit, I had not been in nursing but a few years. I thought those that contracted it thru needle sharing and/or IV drug use deserved what they got. But gay men didn't deserve to die just for loving who they loved. I made a distinction.
Then a friend, who had two gay brothers to die from AIDS, asked me to help with the massive quilt when it came to the Greensboro Coliseum. She had had a square made, in her brothers' memories, to add to the quilt-top. My "job" was to keep people off the quilt (as it was displayed in sections on the floor) and to answer questions about it.
Before opening day, I was walking around looking at the sections myself. Seeing all the pieces parts, tee shirts, stuffed animals, childhood toys, pictures, trinkets, messages in the handwriting of the deceased, all kinds of things, of so many lives sewn onto a square changed me completely.
The realization that the face of death was the same, no matter how each contracted AIDS, was overwhelming. I boo-hooed for days for all the young people this quilt represented and for the loss of someone's father, mother, brother, sister, lover, child, friend.
I apply this same realization to addiction. No matter what someone is addicted to, the face of addiction is the same. It hurts everyone involved, not just the addict. But each addict is someone's mother, father, brother, sister, child, lover, friend.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not excusing someone's choice to become involved in something that ends up as an addiction. And I definitely do not make excuses for all the pain and heartache it causes families and friends. I just realize even good folks can become addicts. And my heart hurts for them, for what it does to them and their families/friends.
Therefore, I try to withhold judgement.
I do not blame family/friends for extricating themselves from the hell addicts live in. Nor do I blame them for not being able to tolerate the behaviors of addicts. I know one cannot save someone else from themselves. One can only save their own person and sanity. Most of the time it is the only choice left to family and friends of addicts. And usually the smartest.
Life is our most precious gift, the pain and joy a paradox. My ego want's to know that I have, or will make some small difference in the time alloted to me. To have a piece of the puzzle helps, like Serenity helping her nephew. I have been told only God gets to see the whole picture. I want to see as much as I possibly can.
I remember the "Ouilt" very well Yvonne. A pattern made up of all those I knew and loved, and thoses that touched me only after death.
When I was much younger I use to rock climb, free climb, no safety ropes. Half way up a sheer face three friends told me, "don't go that way, no one has made it yet." Two hours I tried and then came to the end of possibility. Knowing defeat, I held on only by my will and God's grace. A dear friend risked his life and worked his way to my side. He talked to me while I cried and screamed in rage. I will never forget that moment. I had to choose weither to go back or let go. Physically I was spent, my arms and legs quivering rubber. I told myself if I ever got off that rock cliff, I would never climb again. I had risk not only my life, but someone elses as well.
When I see someone's ego do the same thing, flirt with death, I still shudder. I am no longer able to get as close as I use to, so must watch and wait from afar.
I do not worship death, I worship life and all it's mysteries.
And the years flow by one after another.
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