Lying lips
"Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord . . ." Proverbs 12.22
Know any liars? A dishonest tree trimmer pushed me into a frame of mind that asks about liars.
Think of the people I know who are liars, I appreciate anew the gift of forgetfulness. Not to remember all the times I have heard is one of the less obvious blessings of my life. Today, as I try to think of liars I have known, one stands out in my memory.
Of course I am ignoring several categories of liars. Ones who tell little white lies, those harmless falsehoods like the 60-pound watermelons and 12-pound blue gill fish your brother-in-law boasts about, don't count.
Writers who change the name of characters "to protect the innocent" don't count as liars in my book either. Children caught prevaricating about the absence of cookies in grandma's cookie jar are also exempt. Politicians and prison inmates may be liars, but because their lies surprise no one they can be ignored for the same reasons I do not name the mosquitoes that inhabit my back yard. I even grant a stay-out-of-jail card to those souls who lie so often, they don't know when they are lying.
No, when I speak of liars, I mean those diabolical people who intentionally and deceitfully misrepresent the truth for some benefit to themselves.
I remember the first time I encountered a honest-to-goodness, in the flesh liar. It was during my teen years.
That tells you what kind of sheltered childhood I had. I doubt any teenager today can boast of such naivety or innocence. But that is another essay for another time.
I was 15-years-old and had an assignment to drive my mother, my grandmother, and my great aunt to St. Louis so they could shop in the city. For them, the day was special; shopping in a huge department store without a husband who kept asking, "Do we really need that?" For me too, the day was special because I got to drive more than a hundred miles and amidst city traffic. Even though my passengers were not on my list of people I most wanted to accompany me to the city of crowds and stop lights, driving my parent's 1951 Plymouth was a duty I understood as a treat.
About 35 miles into our northbound trip, a huge tractor trailer truck carrying coal in the southbound lane pulled out to pass a car in his lane. Before he noticed us the truck was about three feet on my side of the center line. Even though I was hugging the right edge of the highway, the mammoth truck clipped our little Plymouth's rear fender.
A State trooper arrived and began taking statements from the truck driver and me for his report. He spoke first to the truck driver. "Tell me what happened."
With a straight face, the truck driver said, "I was driving in my lane when I saw this car coming toward me real fast. Just as that car got even with my truck, I guess the driver lost control and the car swerved across the center line and fish-tailed into my truck."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. As soon as it was my turn to tell what happened, I asked the trooper a question. "Sir, I am 15-years-old. My mother, my grandma, and my aunt were in the car. Do you really think I would be driving over the speed limit with them in the car when one word from them to my dad would mean I would never get the keys again? I was driving 45 mile-per-hour when the truck started to pass a car in his lane. He crossed the center line and hit our rear fender."
The trooper must have believed me because I never got a ticket or heard anything more about the accident. But I never recovered from the shock of hearing a grown man tell a policeman a bold-faced lie for no purpose other than his benefit. In my short life, I had never heard a man lie.
A few weeks ago, a tree trimmer overcharged me $150. He agreed with my idea of a fair price and said he would return the money to my home a few days later. I waited and he never came, so I called him to learn if I had misunderstood. Again he said he would settle the matter with me by sending a check for $150 in the mail. A few days later, with no sign of the money, I left a message for him at his business suggesting that maybe the postal authorities should be contacted since the money never arrived.
So I have been educated about human nature by many, many people plus two liars. The tuition for the learning the exception was $150.
Did I get a bargain or what?
Know any liars? A dishonest tree trimmer pushed me into a frame of mind that asks about liars.
Think of the people I know who are liars, I appreciate anew the gift of forgetfulness. Not to remember all the times I have heard is one of the less obvious blessings of my life. Today, as I try to think of liars I have known, one stands out in my memory.
Of course I am ignoring several categories of liars. Ones who tell little white lies, those harmless falsehoods like the 60-pound watermelons and 12-pound blue gill fish your brother-in-law boasts about, don't count.
Writers who change the name of characters "to protect the innocent" don't count as liars in my book either. Children caught prevaricating about the absence of cookies in grandma's cookie jar are also exempt. Politicians and prison inmates may be liars, but because their lies surprise no one they can be ignored for the same reasons I do not name the mosquitoes that inhabit my back yard. I even grant a stay-out-of-jail card to those souls who lie so often, they don't know when they are lying.
No, when I speak of liars, I mean those diabolical people who intentionally and deceitfully misrepresent the truth for some benefit to themselves.
I remember the first time I encountered a honest-to-goodness, in the flesh liar. It was during my teen years.
That tells you what kind of sheltered childhood I had. I doubt any teenager today can boast of such naivety or innocence. But that is another essay for another time.
I was 15-years-old and had an assignment to drive my mother, my grandmother, and my great aunt to St. Louis so they could shop in the city. For them, the day was special; shopping in a huge department store without a husband who kept asking, "Do we really need that?" For me too, the day was special because I got to drive more than a hundred miles and amidst city traffic. Even though my passengers were not on my list of people I most wanted to accompany me to the city of crowds and stop lights, driving my parent's 1951 Plymouth was a duty I understood as a treat.
About 35 miles into our northbound trip, a huge tractor trailer truck carrying coal in the southbound lane pulled out to pass a car in his lane. Before he noticed us the truck was about three feet on my side of the center line. Even though I was hugging the right edge of the highway, the mammoth truck clipped our little Plymouth's rear fender.
A State trooper arrived and began taking statements from the truck driver and me for his report. He spoke first to the truck driver. "Tell me what happened."
With a straight face, the truck driver said, "I was driving in my lane when I saw this car coming toward me real fast. Just as that car got even with my truck, I guess the driver lost control and the car swerved across the center line and fish-tailed into my truck."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. As soon as it was my turn to tell what happened, I asked the trooper a question. "Sir, I am 15-years-old. My mother, my grandma, and my aunt were in the car. Do you really think I would be driving over the speed limit with them in the car when one word from them to my dad would mean I would never get the keys again? I was driving 45 mile-per-hour when the truck started to pass a car in his lane. He crossed the center line and hit our rear fender."
The trooper must have believed me because I never got a ticket or heard anything more about the accident. But I never recovered from the shock of hearing a grown man tell a policeman a bold-faced lie for no purpose other than his benefit. In my short life, I had never heard a man lie.
A few weeks ago, a tree trimmer overcharged me $150. He agreed with my idea of a fair price and said he would return the money to my home a few days later. I waited and he never came, so I called him to learn if I had misunderstood. Again he said he would settle the matter with me by sending a check for $150 in the mail. A few days later, with no sign of the money, I left a message for him at his business suggesting that maybe the postal authorities should be contacted since the money never arrived.
So I have been educated about human nature by many, many people plus two liars. The tuition for the learning the exception was $150.
Did I get a bargain or what?
posted by John | 10:53 AM
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