To tell the truth
/There may have been pickled relish trays on the employee Christmas banquet tables that evening in December some twenty years ago. I don't recall. I do remember feeling full of the holiday, the season, and later, that celebratory night, delight mixed with reticence at being the focal point of the traditional after-dinner skit--a modified and fun reenactment of "To Tell the Truth."
Do you remember that mid-twentieth century TV sitcom? Its where contestants discover which of three persons (two are imposters) is the real personality. The guessing game ends when the moderator says, "Will the real so and so, please stand up?" The characters taunt the audience a minute longer with false attempts to stand. Eventually, the real person rises fully revealing their identity.
So often we can't or won't see ourselves as we are. Blinded by doubt or longing to be something other than our most authentic selves, we look to trusted friends for reassurance. Is there a better way of knowing oneself than having our good friends' qualities reflected back to us?
Near the end of the banquet table, there are no more chairs. It's where the life-long quest to define who or what or how we are in the world, isn't an empty, pointless, and unfruitful endeavor or nearly as uncomfortable as we thought. It's the end of the table where they've placed the most sumptuous desserts, and it is where we've found our best selves standing. Instead of hesitation, there is sweet, courageous independence of telling our truth.
