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.