Shari Della Penna
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"Small acts of kindness can change and humanise our world."
   Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks 1948-2020
   ​Chief Rabbi of Great Britain, 1991-2020
                         Author, Advocate, Advisor

Outliers and Flat Out Liars

8/21/2018

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    “Do you still remember asking me a while back why we came to America?” [Mom] asked.
    I noddded.
    “This is why,” she said.
                    . . .                             
    Slowly, my parents started telling me about something that happened in China a long time ago called the Cultural Revolution. . . My parents said that during the Cultural Revolution, my grandparents were locked up and shipped away. It didn’t matter whether they actually did anything wrong. 
    “That’s why we left, so that something like that wouldn’t happen to you,” my dad said. America may not be perfect, but she’s free.
                                                              from: Front Desk
                                                           written by Kelly Yang
                                    Arthur A. Levine Books/Scholastic, 2018

    Who really tells the truth? Who really *knows* the truth? Who’s afraid to tell the truth? In this day and age of information overload, it’s hard to even find unbiased truth, unbiased facts, unbiased anything! But still we try.
    When security clearances are getting revoked, people who used to be trusted with facts and truth, are not trusted so much anymore. 
    Or maybe they are more trusted than ever, by different people, though.
    Have you ever heard of “lie bumps”? If you tell a lie, irritating bumps will form on your tongue. I just looked it up on Google here: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/320275.php There really is such a thing, although they are no longer thought to be caused by telling lies. 
    But Mom believed they were. She put great store in honesty and truth telling. And “lie bumps.”
    My mom was the opposite of a saver. She didn’t throw things away indiscriminately, but she did not like clutter. Opposite of my dad and a source of frustration for them both, I think.
    But Mom collected fifty-cent pieces. From 1916 to 1947, an image of Lady Liberty moving toward a rising sun was engraved on the coins. Then in 1948, Benjamin Franklin face was struck onto them. And in 1964, after his assassination, John F. Kennedy got a fifty-cent piece of his own.
    Mom was proud of her collection. She saved all the half-dollars she got as change and we three kids added to her collection. She’d trade us for quarters. I don’t know how many she had, but I know it was a lot: some Lady Liberties, some Franklins, and lots of Kennedys. Then one day she told us her collection went missing. She believed it was stolen. But who would do such a thing?
    She asked each of us kids if we knew where her collection was. She even said she wouldn’t punish us, but just wanted them back. I don’t know about my sister or brother, but I know I did not take them. I did not know where they were.
    I did not get “lie bumps,” either. At least not that time.    
    When we closed up her house, I was still looking for those half-dollars. Where they went remains a mystery.
    Maybe someone told her the truth and she didn’t share the info with us. Maybe she never found out, either.
    I know some people must still tell the truth, especially when it really matters. Even though some people say the truth isn't true. Okay I only heard one person say that.
    But really. . .
    Who cares how many people attended the 2016 inauguration? Pictures are worth thousands of words. 
    Who cares whether the EPA believes in climate change? Scientists document their facts with photos of the melting ice-cap. 
    Who cares if thousands of dead people voted in Ohio? Data proves no such thing occurred. http://www.vindy.com/news/2018/aug/18/no-ohio-voters-in-special-election-over-/ 
    Well, I care.
    I hope you do, too.

                                                  -—stay curious! (and involved!)






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         I'm a children's writer and poet intent on observing the world and nurturing those I find in my small space .

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