Personal Essay Blog Post #4
As young children, we are often advised to adhere to a basic set of ethical guidelines: be kind, share, and don’t lie. Lying was presented as an immoral act and a betrayal of trust. When I was at this age, I developed a discomfort with lying, but not for the right reasons. My discomfort with lying doesn’t come from an inner good, but an irrational phobia. My fear of lying was first instilled into me when I was in 2nd grade. It started when my father was snooping around the garage and noticed rancid smells nagging at him. He began to find that the source of these smells were wrapped sandwiches placed in remote corners of the house . These sandwiches found themselves situated in the most bizarre of places, finding their way into drawers and down to the bottoms of laundry bins. My father consulted with the rest of my family and found out that these sandwiches were the same ones my Mom was packing my brother and I for school lunch. One of us was going to be in big trouble. When I w