As we all know there are as many competing realities in today’s world as there are subjects to discuss. People believe, for instance, that there is, might be or isn’t global warming or that Covid vaccines are, might be or aren’t virus-preventing or cancer-causing. And, being human, eventually almost every opinion that we accept are those that reinforce our own already-formed identities. I’m left-leaning politically and so find it much easier to accept things that are said that are opposite the far-right and so forth. And, after awhile, you absorb so many of those reinforcements that you simply cannot accept that you could possibly be wrong. For instance, I dislike Donald Trump but I have old friends who think he’s the cat’s pajamas, akin to a god. And these are bright, articulate, moral, ethical folks, same as I hope I am on my better days.
So we collect opinions that reinforce opinions we already hold, and the circle continues, continuing irrespective of any well-meaning “fact-checking” that people do. I lost an old friend around 2019 because I could not accept that Bill, well-educated, articulate, amazingly competent in so many areas and a wonderful fly-fisher to boot, had gone to the political dark (right) side. Or more accurately, he very intentionally lost me, saying he didn’t want to continue talking to me because I wouldn’t agree with him that Breitbart, the right-wing news agency, was telling the truth about anything, while he believed that it was telling truth about everything.
We didn’t give up easily. We took different passes at trying to convince the other, for instance with him sharing more specific links from that site and others and me sharing amazingly insightful stuff from Heather Cox Richardson, whom I still believe to be one of the most interesting left-leaning writers around, well-grounded in (and able to do) historical comparatives, important if you believe that history repeats itself. That failing, we tried (for awhile) to avoid politics entirely but eventually, it seems, he couldn’t. Which was OK. After recovering from being the shock of being summarily dumped, I came to believe that Bill’s truth and mine were so far apart that it was probably all for the best. Which is too bad. If it wasn’t for politics, we would still be talking, vacationing together, and fishing our brains out. But that’s what can happen when we’re confronted with all these different “truths”.
But this doesn’t mean that one always should stick to one truth, or even try to verify facts. There’s at least one circumstance where I think it’s proper to allow yourself a lot of latitude, and that’s in story-telling. I believe in the old adage that, (as Mark Twain is said to have said), “One should never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”
Let me share one example. I have a number of favorite nieces with whom I regularly communicate, several of whom are daughters of my older brother. Some of you know he was a well-respected trial attorney, district attorney and, later, a judge in Alaska until his death. In a recent email exchange with one of those nieces I alluded to part of a story which I’d swear today my brother told me verbatim. It follows:
It seems he and his good friend Tom had been doing a bit of drinking and decided, it being a nice day, to take the family’s 18-foot Boston Whaler out a little ways onto Auke Bay Harbor, a watery neighborhood outside Juno, Alaska and near where he lived, to catch a halibut for dinner. Remarkably, (given the drinking), they not only hooked but brought to the boat a halibut bigger than anything they really wanted. I seem to remember him saying it was more than 40 pounds, although it could have been bigger (and definitely smaller). Anybody who fishes salt-water knows that halibut are among the most ill-dispositioned fish that swim, and if you bring a large one into the boat with you, it had better be dead, ‘cuz if it isn’t, it’ll be coming for you directly.
Which is, per my brother, exactly what happened. After a long, hard fight they boated the beast, realizing within seconds that hitting it over the head with a club was only pissing it off. The alternative method of subduing it, this being both Alaska and Tom and my brother, was to shoot it in the head, which one of them did.
This, he recounted, had the understandable but unfortunate effect of blowing a good-sized hole in the bottom of his Boston Whaler, which began to sink. And as my brother told the story;
“We made it back to shore just as the water was up to the gunnels, and simply stepped out of the boat onto dry land. Never even got our feet wet, and the fish was delicious.”
That is a funny story, no? I, at least, think it’s a good one, and I smile every time I think of it. After all it has everything; setting, adventure and misadventure, excitement, extreme action, and lots of self-deprecating humor. The problem is, even if it’s true I can’t remember him telling it to me. I’m sure SOME part of the story he must have told me, and SOME part of it must be true – overall it’s way too much for even me to have made up out of whole cloth. And since some of his daughters subscribe to this site perhaps one of them will clue us in later in the comments.
But does it really matter? I don’t think so. In my mind I can see my brother, Tom, the boat, the gun and the fish clearly, both before and after the shooting. I can easily imagine the whole chaotic scene. And I enjoy the story, and I don’t think anybody is harmed by its telling, certainly not my brother, who told far worse stories about himself all the time. And, heck, I’ve enjoyed telling it to you, today.
So- no harm done and a laugh or two? In today’s world that’s good enough for me.
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your conclusions are spot on
Thanks, Walt.
“Never let the truth get in the way of a good story” is one of my two most favorite sayings. It was very commonly heard in my firefighter days. This is the first I’ve heard of Mark Twain being the originator. I always gave the credit to my buddy Dave. He was the first one I heard it from and being teller of tall tales, it seemed to fit.
Being a firefighter required you to live in close quarters with your fellow firefighters. Having a sense of humor and either telling or being object of a tall tale was a bonding ritual at the fire station. I became close friends with several of my fellow firefighters. Unfortunately some of those friendships have ended with me not fitting into their MAGA world. I felt very out of place at gatherings of my former work mates being the only non MAGA. I’m a rarity. The vast majority of firefighters and cops love MAGA. It was an awkward place to be. Bill was a man l worked closely with for 25 years. We were friends off the job too. He was my regular partner on atv trips into the woods. I attended his wedding and was a regular guest at his camp outs. Things changed when Trump came on the scene. I did my best to ignore politics and concentrate on our common interests but that became very hard with social media. Bill is a very bright college educated man. After retiring his full time job became posting MAGA nonsense on the internet. I couldn’t believe the stuff I was reading and tried to engage him on some issues. He loved posting Prager U videos and accepted them as gospel. He posted one that somehow proved that the Republicans were the party fighting for civil rights and Richard Nixon’s Southern Strategy never happened. Nothing could sway him from believing that this highly partisan video could be anything but the truth.
My lesson has been learned. You cannot combat the right wing media outrage machine. Their believers are totally committed. They cannot be convinced that their beliefs could possibly be wrong, which leads to my other most favorite saying. “90% of an argument is emotional, the other 10% is logic to support the emotion.” That sure fits in today’s world. It’s just sad that it’s affected so many friendships.
I certainly agree. A strange and somehow bittersweet coincidence that we’ve both had those Bills in our lives. Thanks for sharing the story. I only wish I could figure out an answer to the problem.