(1) Telling the Truth

I'm pretty sure I've told y'all about truth sessions before, but I feel like remembering them this morning.

Back when Betty and I were growing up, we used to participate in a bizarre sub-cultural ritual called Truth Sessions, particularly popular after lights out at summer camp.  A whole group of us sat in a circle and promised to tell each other the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, a phrase we got from Perry Mason.

At that age, we weren't talking about ultimate truths, but our opinions of each other and who we'd manage to become in our first few years of living.  "You wear your socks inside out," or "You're so flat chested," were two I heard, though I don't remember which girl in the circle informed me of these flaws.

At exactly the pre-adolescent ages when we were discovering our own lumps and bumps, I guess we needed each other to guide us to the Cochran version of perfection. Conformity was, after all, the name of the game.

We only had Channel 13 on our black and white TVs in Cochran. For a few minutes around supper time,  good ole infallible Uncle Walter  summed up the true facts of the whole world for our parents, though I don't recall paying attention until 9th grade when President Kennedy was assassinated.

Among our limited fare of shows:  Miss America, The Donna Reed Show, Gunsmoke,  Perry Mason, and The Millionaire.  And of course, who could forget Oral Roberts, the preacher whose gig was healing people? He grabbed the sick and the lame by the head and shouted "Heal!  In the name of Jeee-sus, Heal!"

It worked every time.  The poor guy in the wheelchair or the woman hobbling on crutches would rise right up and walk the aisle (to applause), arms waving, wheelchairs and crutches abandoned forever.  Those who had invisible  ailments, chronic pain, and cancer would weep and smile and announce that they'd been healed.  "It's gone!" they'd say, and Oral would say, "Praise Jeee-sus!" and weep and laugh along with them.

My parents found Oral amusing.  They didn't take him one bit seriously.  But it was the closest thing to theater we had on TV.

I'm not entirely sure, but I suspect  that it was I who created the unfortunate consciousness-raising activity called Truth Sessions.  But more on that later....