Say It Ain't so, Dear (standard:humor, 900 words)
Author: Godspenman	Added: Oct 25 2015	Views/Reads: 1857/1299	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I discovered that what a person thinks about reveals a lot about who they really are.

Honesty is a relative thing and with my relatives, it sometimes is not
even a thing. 

Take Auntie, for instance. She wore such big hats, especially on Sunday,
that if a breeze came by she would fly far away. Why she likes these 
hats, I don't know. Maybe it's because her relatives are not honest 
with her. 

“How do you like my hat,” she would inquire. 

Question: do I want to make her angry or sad? I think the rest of the
family felt the same way. To tell the truth, it is a hard thing to do 
in this instance, her hats are terrible. Where she gets them, nobody 
really knows. Rumor has it she made those hats in her craft room in the 
back of her house. 

I don't know, I stay out of that room as much as possible. 

“Isn't my hat divine,” she would bustle. 

I do not have the heart to tell her how awful that hat is and how silly
it makes her look. Therefore, I cave in to relative dishonesty, “That 
hat makes you look wonderful, Auntie,” I rejoin. 

At times, I feel a little guilty about this. Is it really lying when you
do not want to hurt someone's feelings? Like when your wife says, “Does 
this dress make me look fat?” The husband who will answer that question 
truthfully will pay for it the rest of his married life. 

I try to be as honest as I possibly can. I do not like dishonesty or
people who tell lies. Who do you think I am, a politician? 

As I think of it, maybe these politicians are looking at me as if I was
Auntie and not wanting to hurt my feelings. All I can say is, I have no 
feelings for any of these politicians so just tell me the truth. 

I can well remember back in the good old days &the old family picnics,
when all the relatives would get together on a Saturday for a picnic. 
What a good time that was the end what good memories I have today. 

At these family picnics was good old Uncle Fred, who had more stories to
tell than any man could actually live. If he started one of his fishing 
stories that was the end of the day. 

I am not sure if old Uncle Fred was consciously lying or if he was
dreaming out loud. That is a distinct possibility. Maybe when he was 
talking about his fishing days they were really dreams he had about 
going fishing. I can certainly understand that. 

I have had so many wonderful dreams throughout my life, but the
difference is, I do not tell anybody about my dreams. Some of them are 
just too spooky. 

If Uncle Fred is referring to his dreams, I am not sure I ever want to
sleep over at his house. 

Between Auntie and Uncle Fred, honesty is a relatively scarce thing in
our family. 

At the end of one of Uncle Fred's stories I just want to look at him and
say, “Tell me it ain't so, Uncle Fred.” 

Then, it might hurt his feelings and he may never entertain us again
with one of his dreamy stories. Is that really worth being honest with 
him? 

Both Auntie and Uncle Fred are long gone. The only thing I have are
memories of the stories they told. You know it's kind of tempting to 
me? Retelling their stories as though they were my stories. 

Now that I think about it, perhaps that is what Uncle Fred was doing.
Perhaps when he was younger he heard one of his uncles tell some 
fishing stories and somehow through the mystery of life they became his 
stories. 



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