'Tis the Season

(Note: The following post has been based primarily on the cynical realism and humor of Mark Twain, one of my favorite American authors only to reiterate what I personally believe)

Ah! Smell that fresh-cut pine, the hanging holly berries, the pungent christmas cookies, the hot cider, the nutmeg-laced egg nog! It's almost as aromatic as a blanket of patchwork lies.

Lies? you gasp. What an awful thing to say! You say that Christmas is the season for lying?

Uh-huh. So, deck your halls with boughs of folly, fie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie-lie.

That's a serious accusation, mister. You either better back it up quick or take it back. Or else.

Or else? Or else what?

Or else.

This is my blog. I can write what I please. Well, mostly.

Start talking.

Well, since I certainly do not intend to retract my statement, I guess I ought to explain. But before I proceed, perhaps I ought to begin by defining the term lie.

Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 10th edition (and I quote): 1) To make an untrue statement with intent to deceive; 2) to create a false or misleading impression; 3) an assertion of something known or believed by the speaker to be untrue with intent to deceive; 4) an untrue or inaccurate statement that may or may not be believed true by the speaker; 5) something that misleads or deceives.

Synonyms: prevaricate, equivocate, palter, fib

Translation: If you say or do something with intent to deceive or mislead whoever sees or hears you, whether or not such a statement or behavior is actually deliberate, you are a big, fat liar.

So what does that have to do with anything? you query. I don't do that.

You most certainly do. Especially during this time of the year.

Christmas is based upon surprises and secrets, which are often kept in place by the tangled webs we delight in weaving (see Sir Walter Scott's "Marmion"). Our inability to remain 100% honest during this time of year makes our deceit as much a part of Christmas as the red and gold balls on the blue spruce in the corner of the living room.

What deceit are you talking about, you lunatic? you sputter defiantly.

Look, you can fight it all you want, but if you realized how much you prevaricate, equivocate, palter, and fib at Christmas it would make you go cross-eyed (Note: If you are already cross-eyed, it might straighten them out). I'm sure it makes you uncomfortable, but so what? It is not a matter of question (see Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons) but a matter of fact. We are all of us liars, and just because you claim otherwise does not reconfigure the substance of reality.

For example, if your child asks if Santa is the one who brings presents, what do you say? Yes.

If he or she finds a present he ought not see yet and says, "Is this for me?", what do you say? Um, no; now put it back where you found it.

What are you getting me for Christmas? I don't know, you say (though you have already bought him the set of trains he wanted).

Or try this: My dad whispered something to my mom the other day. He said, "When I got there, the place was trashed." I, overhearing, sort of figured it had something to do with a book I wanted for Christmas and that fact that he had been unable to find it (Note: My mom later confirmed this). I asked what exactly was trashed. He lamely said, "Oh, the warehouse was trashed when I got there this morning." I gave him my super-special Liar-Liar-Pants-on-Fire look and went back to my cooking.

A few days before, my mom asked me if I knew anything about my dad going Christmas shopping with my sister. Not only did I say no but I actually knew that it was not Christmas shopping at all; he was orchestrating another sister's surprise visit from Texas. I knew about it all the time and deliberately lied about anything I knew in order to preserve the surprise.

Let's just accept it. We lie. We prevaricate. We equivocate. We palter. And yes, we fib. A lot. Now, instead of feeling guilty or continuing this absurd denial of the facts, we really just ought to come to terms with our dishonesty. I realize that the term liar has such a negative connotation that we scorn to allow ourselves to carry that nomenclature or be associated in any way with such nefarious company as the brimstone-destined group of people known as liars and deceivers, also known as football coaches and politicians (did I just say that?). But associate with them we do, deliberately or not, and probably with the best of them. Of course, we attempt to soften the sharp sting of such words by substituting other Downy-soft terms such as white lies and fibs, among other things. But the way I, Merriam-Webster, and Mark Twain (see his essay "On the Decay of the Art of Lying") see it, they all add up to the same thing: lies, lies, and more lies.

Stop trying to brush away the facts. I am a liar. You are a liar. Yes, and probably very good at it too. The only difference between us is the fact that I have come to grips with the idea, while you must constantly defend your threatened honor.

Remember: if you are a judicious liar or a liar for the right reasons, you should be grateful for that ability. Yes, and I'm sure those closest to you benefit greatly from your lying ways. Don't persist in being uncomfortable with your newly realized (though not recently developed) set of skills. Celebrate your dishonest-when-needs-be approach to life. Surprises and secrets often have wonderful outcomes at Christmas time. Telling a lie might eventually make someone's day. In fact, you should have seen my mom's face when she saw her grandkids come in her bedroom at 8:30 p.m. She wept openly. She even hugged my father without coercion (I lost three dollars to my sister over that; I bet that my mom wouldn't do it). And it was all due to a Texas-sized stack of whoppers.

So, you say that ends justify means? you ask, pointedly. It's okay to be a liar?


Perhaps.


God bless us, everyone (from Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol).