This book is about me and what bothers me every day and some days more than others. I grew up in a small town where everybody knew your business and where many lived to escape. My parents who I know tried to love and sometimes loved me and who I know I tried to love and sometimes loved wanted me to be a priest but there was no having it for me and my lifelong interest and aversion to lies and lying sprung early.
Sometimes I wish I had a more interesting past—like having a mother who was a contract killer or a father who was a gangster actor in the The Godfather trilogy. But this is something about which I cannot lie. I am from a small-town in “upstate” New York. And though there were troubles with being a “wop” and minor off-the-field spats with Dukie Hall, my life was pretty easy though you would not know it if you knew me then.
I have always been me but sometimes others ignore this, and it makes me very angry.
I can never be the one I could have been.
When I stop trying to understand, I will not be me.
When I stop ranting about lies, I will not be happy.
I have always been me. When I start trying to do something else, I will not be me.
