I love a good mystery and growing up I used to think about how exciting it would be to have a job like James Bond. People do, you know—they actually do the spy thing, facing danger and risking discovery every day. These people thrive on heart-stopping terror and the stress of being discovered and what that may entail. The short time I was privy to doing undercover work in the Air Force terrified me and I determined that my extreme risk taking would be confined to the printed page. A good writer has the ability to suck you into the action in such a way that it seems like you are actually in the story. However, reading about the hairs standing up on the back of your neck because you sense someone following you is quite different than actually having it happen. If the action gets too intense in the book, you can set the book down, and walk away. Real life doesn’t come with an escape clause. The pounding of your heart, difficulty breathing, and the sweat running down your face make the fear you feel come close to paralyzing you.
If we would not want to face danger in real life, why might we want to read about it? It makes us feel like heroes for a few hundred pages. No, seriously, we go along for the ride, and when the story wraps up, the protagonist rises to the top. We like to pretend we are the protagonist and even the weakest personality, for a moment in time, feels strong and in control.
There are some, who, read exciting adventures and use them to “spice up” what is perceived to be an extraordinarily boring existence. I personally have known at least two people who, finding their lives to be hum-drum, created a back-story that, over time, they not only convinced themselves it was true, but shared their story with others as if it were truth. The inconsistencies began to rack up when they added too many “heroic” deeds into the mix. We are hesitant to tell someone who it seems is embellishing their life story that their story appears to be “horse hockey”. What if their story is true? Some of it may be. Most untruths have a grain of truth in it in order for it to have even a grain of veracity. What should we do if we aren’t sure about a story? Do we confront, make an effort to avoid the person, or what? I had a person tell me that they flew a special aircraft designed only for them. It was a futuristic pre-curser to the SR 71, and was called, “Dragonship”. The aircraft operated via voice command keyed to the person’s voice. It could fly around the world in a matter of minutes and was used to conduct super-secret missions in the dark of night for a clandestine organization. The person had himself convinced this was true and had enough details to make one wonder if, indeed, it was true. Granted, it almost sounded like a mish-mash of science fiction books. The person enjoyed science fiction, by the way.
Another story this same person told was of how he flew fighter aircraft for Israel in the Six Day War. Small detail, he would have been sixteen years old and living in California. I asked him about his mom not knowing about this adventure. His explanation? The Israelis sent a clone to take his place so he could, as a lieutenant, fly critical missions in the war.
I would like to be able to say those were the only stories he told, but they weren’t. Looking back at these and the other “life stories” he told, I should have run as far and as fast as I could from him. I grew up with the naiveté of one who cannot conceive of why someone would attempt to pass off a falsehood as truth. Therefore, I suppose, the word “gullible” was figuratively tattooed on my forehead. You may say, “How could you have believed such outrageous things?” It does seem quite incredible that I did, but people fall for cons every day. There are those that weave stories in such a way that even though one can feel that question in the back of their mind, there is not quite enough there to be a glaring falsehood. I bet everyone has at least one time in their lives been lied to or conned. Sometimes we find out and sometimes we don’t. Perhaps we want it to be true so badly we are unwilling or unable to see the “forest for the trees”.
I hope that I have learned to question the niggling in the back of my brain, instead of brushing it aside. I will continue to read my risky adventures, living vicariously through them and once in a while I may be daring enough to add excitement to my life. I’m not quite ready for white-water rafting, or jumping out of an airplane, but I’ve done other interesting things. Everyone needs a little excitement in their lives, just enough to get the adrenalin pumping, but not enough to paralyze you with terror. Get out there and live!
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