I don't remember specific lies my parents told, only the contradictions. Other than meals, a roof over my head, church (a big lie there), and evenings around the TV, I lived an alone life. I was encouraged through modelling to question everything.

That was good until I pushed up against my father's belief that might makes right, country is always right, etc. When I did and said aloud: "The US is wrong for being in Vietnam." It came to fist-a-cuffs.

Truth first no matter what the cost. But I never tried making my parents see me, understand me, or accept me. I was on a quest for truth. What they did, did not matter one way or another. We met through the bonds of love, albeit awkwardly in the expression of it.