I have been told that I was born on a crisp Autumn day in South Bend, Indiana in the early seventies. I have learned not to always trust what I've been told. In this case, the evidence is not merely anecdotal. I happen to have documentation stating that this is the Truth. Although the documentation also states that my father is a man who did not enter my life until I was eight years old. So the Truth remains elusive.
Truth is a surprisingly abstract concept. There is Absolute Truth, which is what nobody can object to. There is no denying that the Earth is round or the color of an orange. Unless, of course, it is a blood orange, which is an entirely different discussion. Then there is simple Truth. The number on a scale is deniable. People see situations in very different lights. Two folks can enter a room at the same time and witness the same occurrence and come out with two completely different ideas of what went on.
As young humans, we learn to trust what our parents tell us as Absolute Truth. And then the moment comes when we learn that parents sometimes stretch the truth. And there are times when they downright bastardize it into something completely unrecognizable. The tooth fairy. An imagined nursing degree. Superhuman strength. It's a sad day when we change from completely trusting beings to people full of doubt and question.
The search for Truth continues, frustrating as it may be. And the truth is, that it won't be found on a birth certificate or in the mouth of a well-meaning parent.
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