A True Confession
As a kid, I was such a liar, telling such tall tales, complete with description and dialogue, that looking back, I remember some of those lies vividly like a true memory.
Sometimes the lie was to talk myself out of punishment. Back in those days, we could pretty much wander all over the neighborhood as long as we were home by dinner. My father wanted me and my sister at the dinner table, no matter what. There were limits though, my mom really didn't like for us to go visiting beyond the grammar school which was about three long blocks away. On this particular day, I went way, way past the school. First I visited a school friend named Marilyn Benedict (see how well I remember this?) and it was the first time I'd ever been there. Having gone that far, I though I'd visit a girl who was a year older than me who lived in a house that looked like a castle--much, much farther than I was allowed to venture. She wasn't home. But by this time is was getting very late and I knew I'd miss dinner. My big story was that I'd somehow gotten turned around and crossed this really big bridge (there was no bridge) and it took me a long time to find my way back. I can see that bridge in my mind--as clear as any of my other memories. I doubt if the lie got me out of trouble, can't remember that part.
I grew up during the 2nd World War, so a lot of my fantasies--and lies--had a lot to do with the war. A friend of mine and I concocted poisons in her basement by mixing all sorts of things that were in bottles and cans and putting them in little pill bottles. We told everyone that when the enemy invaded we were already assigned to be spies.
There were many, many more--such as another friend and I were going to have our appendix out at the same time and the hospital was going to let us share a bed. I can remember telling that to a teacher. Running off to join a circus was another whopper. But the biggest one that many of my school chums believed was about my sister. During the war, many of the people living in Europe sent their children to the U.S. in order to keep them safe. I told everyone that my sister who is five years younger than I am was a princess from overseas who had come to live with us. My poor sister truly thought she was adopted for a long, long time and wondered why her parents never came and got her.
Fortunately, the lies I tell now are in the form of my books. Like my mother told everyone, I had--and still do have--an overactive imagination.
An that's my confessions.
Marilyn a.k.a. F. M. Meredith
Sometimes the lie was to talk myself out of punishment. Back in those days, we could pretty much wander all over the neighborhood as long as we were home by dinner. My father wanted me and my sister at the dinner table, no matter what. There were limits though, my mom really didn't like for us to go visiting beyond the grammar school which was about three long blocks away. On this particular day, I went way, way past the school. First I visited a school friend named Marilyn Benedict (see how well I remember this?) and it was the first time I'd ever been there. Having gone that far, I though I'd visit a girl who was a year older than me who lived in a house that looked like a castle--much, much farther than I was allowed to venture. She wasn't home. But by this time is was getting very late and I knew I'd miss dinner. My big story was that I'd somehow gotten turned around and crossed this really big bridge (there was no bridge) and it took me a long time to find my way back. I can see that bridge in my mind--as clear as any of my other memories. I doubt if the lie got me out of trouble, can't remember that part.
I grew up during the 2nd World War, so a lot of my fantasies--and lies--had a lot to do with the war. A friend of mine and I concocted poisons in her basement by mixing all sorts of things that were in bottles and cans and putting them in little pill bottles. We told everyone that when the enemy invaded we were already assigned to be spies.
There were many, many more--such as another friend and I were going to have our appendix out at the same time and the hospital was going to let us share a bed. I can remember telling that to a teacher. Running off to join a circus was another whopper. But the biggest one that many of my school chums believed was about my sister. During the war, many of the people living in Europe sent their children to the U.S. in order to keep them safe. I told everyone that my sister who is five years younger than I am was a princess from overseas who had come to live with us. My poor sister truly thought she was adopted for a long, long time and wondered why her parents never came and got her.
Fortunately, the lies I tell now are in the form of my books. Like my mother told everyone, I had--and still do have--an overactive imagination.
An that's my confessions.
Marilyn a.k.a. F. M. Meredith
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