8/14/08

Lying About Where I'm From



I always used to tell the truth about where I was from. But a Korean kid at the mostly freshman ward we attend right now summed it up best with his own experience. "When I tell people I'm from Rexburg, they look disappointed, like they want me to explain that I'm Korean before they're satisified."
I've always thought it was funny the way people would ask me "where are you from?" To anyone else they just want to know where they're from, but when directed at me they expect a report on my ethnicity and when they hear the answer "Canada" their expression says that they want to know how it is that I'm Canadian. You can't be Canadian! You're ASIAN! What do you know about being Canadian?


The Bishop of our new ward came by to visit and to get to know the people that are in the new ward that is being organized. Dan and I talked to him for a while and the question eventually came around. Where are you from? Canada. Disappointment. I explained I was originally from Singapore. He looked satisisfied. The snob in me wondered if he even knew where Singapore was.
Maybe that's why I started lying. If you have no idea what my world is like, I'm going to make you question your own world. Maybe I just got sick of the disappointment in their eyes when I told them the truth. Where are you from? Moroni, Utah. Really? Yeah it's a place in the middle of nowhere Utah. They look at me like I'm lying, and I look them right in the eye with a slight smile that challenges them to question my lie. When I turn on the lie, I can lie thru my teeth. The usual "look me in the eye and tell me it's not true" doesn't work on me. If they want to know the truth they'll stick around.
Moroni, Utah came as a side lie to the greater lie that my great grandparents came across the plains with Brigham Young. What you don't believe it? Why would I lie? I have nothing to gain by lying to you.
This weekend though, the first leg of the great California adventure involved a kind of spiritual journey to Manti for one of my best friends wedding. Passing through to Manti though, was the mystical town of Moroni, Utah. The lie that I created to fight the question that they would ask found its mystical birthplace.
The lie is complete now. I'm from Moroni, Utah. It's somewhere between Ephraim and Fountain Green. We raise sheep right on the outskirts of town. It's the small of the small town, a place where your grandparents live and the town will vanish the moment they die.
I love lying about where I'm from.

5 comments:

Jami said...

Pretty good lie, I must admit. However, to those who know you well (and read your love tribute to the big city) I don't think that your lie will fly.
Speaking of, thanks for the reminder that beauty is everywhere if one's looking for it. You're right.

Dan said...

Ivor Come back.

Watching the Olympics isn't very much fun without Ivor. I mean, it's cool to watch Phelps dominate everyone, but I really miss talking trash to people (Ivor) who cheer for other countries. I really don't mind when other countries (like China) do well. In fact, I hope they do well--I just hope they lose to the U.S. But it's just not the same when Ivor's not here, and I can't rub it in his face (even though China has more gold medals then the U.S.--I don't want to talk about that). Sigh.

Ivor come back.

Eric James said...

I miss you too Ivor. U-S-A All the Way!

Leanna said...

The disappointment you see in people's eyes when you tell them you're from Canada reminds me a lot of the disappointment I see in people's eyes when I tell them I'm from Tennessee because they don't understand why I don't have an accent. I don't entirely understand it, either, so I can't even give them a really good excuse. Do you have any good lies for me to use, Ivor?

iBo said...

I don't want to come back. I'm in a place now where people appreciate my Canadianness and cheer for Canada and China and not America. Muhahahaha.

Leanna, maybe you could say that you were from Tennessee, but after being kidnapped by Wyoming Terrorists, and being in captivity for 15 years, you learned how to speak English without the accent.

Or something else ridiculous like that...