I’m a really, really good liar. Seriously, I am. When I was growing up, I learned at home how to do it right, even though the same person who taught me how to do it so well would punish me for lying to him.
From a very early age, I learned to answer the phone when my father was dodging certain phone calls. I was coached in exactly what to say to which people, completely without regard to the truth, of course. I was frequently casually informed of lies so I could be sure to back up one of my father’s lies if it came up in conversation.
For instance, we were one time on the way to visit my father’s boss when he told me to say that my foot was fine if I was asked about it. He had needed an excuse to leave work one day, so he claimed that I had been injured by having a lawnmower blade hit my foot. (He had read a tiny news item about it happening to another boy, so he just transferred the story to me when it was convenient.) Things such as this were common for me.
As I said, though, lying to him was strictly forbidden. If I was caught doing it — and I was, from time to time — I was severely punished.

At life’s end, who we’ve loved will matter more than what we’ve owned
Without the state, who would plow roads? We and our neighbors will
Will I run for office? The short answer is ‘no’; the longer answer is ‘no way’
Looking for a good read? Check out my book recommendations
Check out Aya Katz’s interview with me about art and culture
It’s when we create art — and create a better world — that we’re most like our Creator
Stop using children as pawns to promote adult political agendas