Honesty
Two days ago I went to Jack’s school to have lunch with him. In my purse were six invitations to his birthday party. He’d wanted to bring them to school that morning but I’d told him I didn’t want anyone getting in trouble for opening the invitations in their classrooms. “And plus you don’t want to hurt other kids’ feelings who aren’t invited,” I’d said. I’ll bring the invites at lunch.”
When I arrived at the elementary school, I squeezed between Jack and Gabe at the lunch benches.
“There’s King,” Jack said pointing to the grinning boy, King always smiled, walking up the aisle. “Can I give him his invitation?”
“Yes, but let’s be like secret spies and not make a big deal about it.”
Jack seemed to like this. But when he approached King, he said in a voice that rose above the din of the hundred kids eating lunch, “Hey, King. Here’s my invitation.”
“Yes,” King gave Jack a huge smile and a high five.
“You want to hear something funny?” Jack asked. “My mom didn’t want to invite you because she says you have too much energy.”
I cringed at the truth. My first impulse was to lie and say, “Oh, Jack that’s not what I said.” But I didn’t. What would that have said to Jack? Don’t tell the truth? I just smiled at King as if I hadn’t heard the comment and couldn’t wait until his mania visited our house.
Jack went to the playground to make plans for the boys versus girls battle that had ensued two weeks before when he’d started second grade. Gone were the days of me running after Jack and ten other kids in a game of tag where I was always “it.” Now I settled myself in the shade of a tree to finish reading the memoir, PERFECTION.
“Hi, Jack’s mom.”
I looked up from the book to see a classmate of Jack’s from kindergarten. “Hey, Louie, what’s up?”
“Um, nothing.”
“What’s your mom up to?”
“Hmmm,” he said. “Right now she’s probably either in the pool, taking a nap or watching something on TV.”
I wondered what Louie’s mom would think of Louie’s honesty.
“Is she still working at Target?”
“No, she got fired. She doesn’t have a job now,” he said before running down the ramp to play.
I looked down at the cover of the memoir, and thought about honesty. PERFECTION is a story about Julie Metz’ husband who one January morning collapses and dies in Metz’ arms. After seven months of mourning, the truth comes out about what secrets Henry had kept from her. It is these secrets Metz speculates may have killed her husband.
But what would Henry’s truth done for Metz? Sure, it would have assuaged his guilt, maybe prevented his sad heart from giving up on him, but what would being honest have done for Metz and their 10-year-old daughter? William Shakespeare said, “Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself.” Is honesty the best policy when the truth only benefits the person telling it to save his honor, to save himself?
There are other instances when honesty is never the best policy. When a wive asks, “Do these pants make me look fat?” Lie, I say, lie. Nothing good has ever come from telling that truth. Then I think of Jack telling King about his energy and Louie saying his mom was fired, and I’m awed by their innate honesty. If I’d asked these boys, “Does my ass look big in these pants?,” if the truth was yes, they would have said so. And honestly there is something refreshing about their untainted opinions, their truth.
Is honesty the best policy? Honestly, only sometimes. What do you think?
Sure, it would have assuaged his guilt, maybe prevented his sad heart from giving up on him, but what would being honest have done for Metz and their 10-year-old daughter?
The best thing would have been for him not to fool around.
Honesty is overrated, at least when someone is using it to justify bad behavior. “Oh yes I am a [jerk] [abuser] [thief] but at least I am honest about it!”
BS. There is no virtue in being honest about negative character traits and bad actions.
There is a fine line in truth telling. I too know someone who tells the truth in a way that, for him, is just being honest, but it smacks of selfishness. And the flip side is there are consequences. And he doesn’t often like the consequences. If we really tell the whole truth all the time we would have very few friends I would think. Who wants to be around a hard core truth teller all the time? There is truth in not telling the truth, too.
I think the older I get the better I get at weighing the pros and cons (the gifts versus the damages) about telling the truth. But the experiences at Jack’s school reminded me that as an adult I’m too polite or still worry what others might think if I tell the truth. I love the innocence of children.
I love (read sarcasm) when people use honesty as an excuse to be mean. “Well, I told you the truth. You just didn’t want to listen.” The moron is probably still being honest and is still probably alone, very alone.
Oh, rest assured our children never lose the ability to tell us the truth. “That dress is too short.” “Are you wearing a bra?” “Your hair is too short.” I suppose they feel safe enough with us to tell us the truth, but it also means they don’t want to be embarrassed by us because right now other people’s opinions mean a lot to them. My job is to continue wearing those short dresses, going without a bra and wearing my hair any way I want that makes me feel good. My job is to show my kids being yourself and what’s inside matters most. Linda, I agree about the memoir.
Honestly, let ‘er fly. Sometimes it points to the truth. Sometimes it don’t.
I read that book too, Michelle. It wasn’t the best memoir I’ve read but it was interesting and certainly dramatic, with that beginning. And about lying – well, I’ve got a teenager. He just told me the other day that I need to get a new wrinkle cream. Mine apparently isn’t working well enough…
This such a great example of the innocence of youth is so darn honest. I’m with you on the sometimes it is good to be honest and othert times honesty should be buffered. During my single days, I dated one particular moron who felt it was always right to be honest. If the other person could not accept the truth that was their problem. I cant tell you how many times I couldnt handle his truth and ended up with a broken heart.
Fascinating post. I’ve been thinking about issues of honesty and integrity as well, on many axes. Professionally (as a result of doing some work for a friend, and having to tell him a hard truth because it affects his reputation and my own). Also personally – as films sometimes provoke memories and a re-examination of past events. And also, as parenting does the same.
You’re dealing with the kind of honesty we encourage in our children when they are little. From honesty, we build trust. Honesty and trust are critical in relationships – parental, familial, between spouses and lovers.
Then again, when we think about how we deliver the truth and when – we can’t help but weigh the potential damages with the possible value. There are “selfish” truth tellers and those who genuinely want to clear the air and make amends.
I wonder about these variations in honesty, and I can only imagine that some of what is revealed following someone’s passing can be illuminating. In a good way, or not so much.