The truth about Honesty

I’ve given a great deal of thought to the notion of honesty. Perhaps it came about during my extended periods of soul-searching, questioning why I ended up doing what I did. Or, perhaps it was reading over and over my ex-wife’s numerous letters to me that all contained one or more of the following:



“You’re a G** D***** liar . . .”


“You lying A**hole . . .”


“You are a M----- F------ liar . . . “


After all those outbursts, my ex would then explain – or perhaps a better choice of words would be rewrite – our history.


At first I thought I’d go through point by point all the revisionist history she concocted. I’d be like the “National Enquirer” and “name names”, all the friends we had that she spilled secrets about. But then, I realized it simply wasn’t worth it. Why? Because, as Jack Nicholson pointed out in “A Few Good Men”, you “want the truth? You can’t handle the truth.”


Guys show up to prison and create new personas. Drug addict? He becomes a drug lord. Break into a house? No, you’re a reincarnation of Bonnie & Clyde. “I made $1 million a year and drove a Bentley”. Really? Why didn’t you use some of your money to get dentures (dental hygiene for most inmates is atrocious)?


Child pornographers become “computer technicians”. It goes on and on, until you meet the transparent guys. Those are the guys that look you right in the eye and say “I killed him. I stabbed him twice in the chest”. But, then the eyes fill with regret and you’ll hear him say “not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could change what I did”.


I’m one of those transparent guys. I don’t hold anything back. There are no secrets. Frankly, it’s liberating. Dishonesty, especially with yourself can wear you down and, if unchecked, destroy you.


I’ve learned that the people who scream the most about honesty are probably the ones with the most to fear from their version of the truth being revealed. Watch out for the folks that tell you “I’m a good person and I lead an honest life”. In my experience those are the people who would be embarrassed if their friends and neighbors knew what they really said and did.


Prison – the good, the bad, and the ugly of it – is a mirror image of society. So, I’ve learned to accept with a grain of salt Wilbur’s story about the 300,000 acre farm in Montana, or Ray’s car collection, or New York Rob’s master’s degree from Cornell. I’ve also learned to accept how hard it is for my ex to look in the mirror and admit to herself that she wasn’t perfect, I wasn’t a bad husband (matter of fact, I was a pretty good husband and a damn good father), and maybe feel some regret over what’s become of us.


The truth is, I became honest with God. I let Him know I made a mess of everything. The good news is, He said it was OK. I was forgiven and I was going to be alright.


If God could do that for me, the least I could do is overlook other people’s short comings and errors. The truth is, honesty isn’t nearly as important as forgiveness, and love, and compassion.