By David Myers

Southwest Kansas Register

He walked into my office like a plate of seafood; crabby and smelling fishy. He said he was seeking truth with a capital "T." I asked him why the helmet, and he said, "Truth doesn’t come easy."

He sat down, and I offered him a glass of water. He said he never drank water. Said he found it too sobering. He told me he had been across the globe searching for answers, and all he had gotten were clichés wrapped in sanitized prose. I had no idea what he meant, so I raised an eyebrow, nodded, and jotted down a few things I needed to pick up at the grocery store.

Then I told him about the Great Truth —you know, the big one—the one God promised when He sent His Son Jesus to die for us. He said it was too early in my column to be mentioning God, and that I should save it for the end, like I usually do. I would have argued the point, but instead I just nodded and wrote down "Ovaltine."

He told me that the closest he had come to finding truth had been from an Indian mystic. After meditating for several hours on his question, the mystic determined that we are all part of a behemoth sitcom being watched by the Brady Bunch.

As odd as the theory was, it reminded me of something I had read recently. Experts say that we laugh about 80 percent less as adults than we did as children, which means that if our lives were a sitcom, we would have been canceled a long time ago. This thought led me to an unexpected truth: Laughter’s not only more powerful than prescription-strength Tylenol, but it keeps us on the air and in a good time slot.

When I told him this he actually smiled a little, but just a little, mind you. He was obviously shaken but not stirred. He told me how he had undergone a vision quest to remove the veil between Truth and Untruth by ingesting peyote on a hilltop in Gallup. A few hours later he moved to a local bar where he continued his quest by downing a dozen Old Milwaukees and a bowl of stale peanuts. Later a wise old Navajo medicine man walked by, took pity on him and gave him some Tums.

I realized then that to recognize Truth, we must also recognize lies, such as the one that says that by making us drooling, slurring, stumbling, and emotional wrecks, drugs and/or alcohol somehow make us more socially redeeming. Just ask Joe Namath. A Chinese proverb reads, "Unless we change direction, we are likely to end up where we are headed." Very bright, those Chinese proverb writers.

With this he lit a cigarette and glanced out the window. I sat patiently for a moment and then sprayed his cigarette with window cleaner. "Sorry," I said. "I don’t second-hand smoke."

He stood up, stretched, and tossed the wet cigarette in the trash. Staring blankly out the window, he told me he thought he had found Truth last summer. Her name was Gloria, and she could balance a lemon wedge on her nose like nobody’s business. He was instantly smitten. The two began dating, and he fell for her. Fell hard. But on the very day he was to ask her to marry him, she ran off with a mathematician from Ingalls. The couple later was injured when one of his equations went seriously awry and his chalkboard spontaneously combusted.

He said it just didn’t add up. Every moment that his love had grown, Truth came into clearer and clearer focus. Like a slow sunrise, the secrets of life and all its mysteries revealed themselves in tiny baby steps. But when she stomped on his heart like so many hungry ants at a Knights of Columbus picnic, Truth packed up and hitchhiked to wherever Truth goes when hearts divide.

I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, then. Could I blame him for questioning Truth in a world where the differences between what’s right and what’s wrong often no longer depend on the Truth, but on what political party you belong to? In a world where American soldiers die every day but it takes a sleazy Superbowl half-time show to get people really riled up?

I sat back in my chair for a minute. I knew we were getting near the end of the column, and I’d need to say something about God soon or risk a secular ending. He sensed the same and tightened his helmet.

It was then that it dawned on me that there really is only one Truth. It’s a Truth that removes the blinders so you can see with crystal clarity the difference between right and wrong. It’s a Truth that allows you to look at life’s multitude of blessings with an almost drunken joy; a truth that steals away fear, instills hope, and leaves you with more love than the heart can possibly hold.

Sensing I was out of column space, the man smiled, removed his helmet, stepped out the door and bumped his head on a hanging plant.

Never let your guard down, I thought. Truth doesn’t come easy.