by Harold McMillan

Verities. Truths.

I know this guy, Mr. Smart E. Pants, who is full of more truth than any other person in my life. Truths about life. About desire. Anger. Joy. Confusion. Everything from the mundane to the profound. He seems to have a handle on it all. He doesn't really say much (at least not much that I can understand), but you just know that he only understands truth. He lives it.

Don't get me wrong, I guess someone could lie to him. He can be fooled, gullible little guy that he is. But he's a quick study. He understands the value of manipulation and farce, but he only uses them in his quest to gain insight into the meaning of life, the nature of truth, the limits of my intellect, or to simply get me to do what he knows to be the right thing.

I can't really fault him for that. To his credit, he manages not to come off as an arrogant know-it-all. I'm convinced that he has absolutely no concept, no idea of what it means to be wrong. He never admits fault. He never apologizes. He can't even bring himself to mouth the words, "I'm sorry, I was wrong." It's true, he is never wrong!

Now believe me, most of the time this guy is a joy to be around. His honesty is totally refreshing, innocent, naive. But you know that feeling you sometimes get when you're hanging out with someone who is just too perfect? They know everything. They make you feel dumb and inadequate. Sometimes it's just a drag to hangout with someone who's never wrong about anything. Well, maybe not a drag, just high pressure. Like walking on eggshells, you know that at any minute you could misstep, make the wrong move and really screw something up bad. And you know that if that happens, it's your fault -- after all, little Mr. Perfect doesn't make mistakes.

And when you do mess up, he's gonna be the first one to let you know about it. So, you got Mr. Know-it-all, laughingly, smugly right, correct, righteous, never makes a mistake, and you do something dumb. He lets you know just how stupid you are for making the wrong decision. You're tired. You're frustrated. You're out of patience and this wise guy is screaming at you -- again. And the worse thing in the world is, once again, you know that Mr. I-don't-make-mistakes is indeed in fact right, again.

Like I said earlier, he only knows truth. He is right, I am wrong. He's screaming at me about it. And, once again, I'm praying I've not done anything to hurt him or to permanently injure our relationship. He has the real power here. I know he's the smart one, I'm the dummy. I'm at least smart enough to know that. He's trying to teach me so much and I'm insecure about my ability to measure up to his high standards. I'm afraid he'll find out I'm just faking my way through.

He never actually comes out and says anything directly to me about it. But, man, that little Mr. Brainiac has no hesitation about getting right in my face, looking me in the eyes, opening his little-big mouth and screaming full-throttle at me. He's toned it down some, but he actually went through a period where he would scream at me non-stop for up to an hour. Made me feel really bad. Dumb.

The really cool thing (and I guess I should actually say something nice about this guy) is that he is so forgiving of my mistakes. He's just very matter-of-fact about almost everything. I mess up. He screams at me about it. I learn. I apologize for being wrong. No judgment, truth is Truth. I can live with that. We share a good laugh and a drink. And we're back to being best friends.

Being best friends is the best part. Really, I learn so much from this guy. I know the theme here is supposed to be about "truth," but I think truth is really the underlying thing that I'm talking about. Honesty, truth, is really what being a "good guy" is all about.

I don't think any of us can actually remember it, but there was a time in all of our lives when we only knew truth. That's it. That's all we knew. Hadn't lived long enough to learn from the experiences of dishonesty, lies and deception. Back then our entire existence was all about expressing truth, absorbing everything we could and simply looking to find the deeper truth embodied in whatever was presented to us. It wasn't about being stuffy, serious, arrogant or heavy. The whole thing was all about how simple this life could be -- if the baseline assumptions were based on an honest quest for and acceptance of truth.

My friend, Mr. Wise Guy, has managed to keep his place there in naive innocence. Puts pressure on me to not violate that trust. I know that he will be nothing short of honest with me. If I can manage to come up to his standard, then we connect in such a way that we indeed share his understanding of verity, truth, trust in what is.

I guess the thing that worries me about this relationship is my inability to come up, really, to his level in all of this. You see, he will -- at least for a while longer -- always be right. I'm older, have graduate degrees, have wisdom beyond his years, but he beats me every time. Even without saying it, he just knows, he's just always right.

But I have faith. I'm a quick study, too. The very next time that I'm sure it's his -- Mr. Smart E.Pants' -- wet diaper and it turns out he's really just hungry for some strained carrots or needs a nap, I'll act like I knew it already, was just testing him.

After all, I gotta use whatever (imagined) advantage I've got, while I've still got it. I might have a slight edge now, but sooner or later, Mr. Wise Guy is not likely to be as forgiving, naive,or innocent as he is now.

[Harold McMillan is the publisher of Austin Downtown Arts magazine and proud father of Mr. Always Right, seven-month-old Hayes Michael McMillan.]