The truth about lying

In the past here we have discussed the possibility that misrepresenting the truth when it doesn’t hurt anyone is not sin deserving hell fire and brimstone. Serious research done by social scientists who study “lying” report they make distinctions between white lies, fibs, blatant lies and harmful prevarications ... even have a category for thoughtful untruths which were justified because they keep from hurting someone’s feelings; however they have left out what we tall-tale spinners prefer to call “high quality B.S.”

Those “honesty researchers” have determined just about everyone tells mistruths (lies) on a daily basis , some a lot more than others. I’ve admitted in this column to occasionally using the gift of “creative recall,” especially when it comes to such things as waist measurements, golf scores, the size of fish, etc.

That subject was called back to mind when I found a membership card and letter from the renowned Burlington Liars Club, dated Dec. 5, 2002. The letter acknowledged a story I sent to them in November. It said: “Thank you for sending a dollar to the Burlington Liars Club. We have to wonder about anyone who would send money to an organization dedicated to lying, but we are sending you a lifetime honorary membership card anyhow.

“This card enables you to submit lies for the annual contest to determine the World Champion Liar, which is judged each December. Lies not received in time for the current contest are automatically entered in next year’s contest.”

Why did I correspond with those “Burlington exaggerators” in the first place?

Used to listen in rapt awe to stories told by Glacier Park’s famed packer, the late Bill Yenne. Hung on every word while deeply wishing that I could recall such wondrous things as his tale about romancing a girl who was so tall “...she would go down to Flathead Lake each fall and hunt geese with a rake.” Even recall his noting that girl’s father was so tall “... he had to get up on a chair to put on his hat.”

Bill also narrated heartbreaking stories like one about a jobless man at St. Mary who went bankrupt after leaving a rented truck up on blocks for two weeks. According to Bill, the unfortunate fellow forgot to take it out of gear “...and the wind blowing against the rear tires ran up 60,000 on the mileage gauge.”

It is hard to compete with world-class stuff like that, but in a moment of optimism I gave it a shot. This is what was sent to the boys in Burlington:

“Dear Liars Club.

“The following is a true story, but even knuckle-walkin’ drunks won’t believe it, so am sending the facts to you out of pure frustration:

“Swiftcurrent Peak towers into the northern Montana sky on the Continental Divide at Glacier National Park. In 1988 a friend, Ivan O’Neil and I hiked nine mile sup there to its summit where a wilderness fire-lookout is located. We noted the Park Service had built a very sturdy outhouse on the edge of a high cliff, and it was anchored securely by thick steel cables wrapped around and clamped onto three large boulders.

“The next summer a ranger discovered the outhouse was gone, blown away by unusually strong winds from the west.

“The following October, Ivan and I were riding the train to Minot, North Dakota, and spotted the Swiftcurrent outhouse lying out on the Great Plains near Fort Belnap, a hundred miles from the Rockies ... with the boulders still attached.”

Truthfully yours,

George Ostrom

So! I’ve got a “Lifetime Honorary Membership” in the Burlington Liars Club, but somehow I don’t feel worthy of such high distinction. maybe next year I’ll enter one of Yenne’s best tales.

There is one big concern, “Should I lie about it actually being my story?”

G. George Ostrom is an award-winning columnist from Kalispell.