lies that help

I often tell people that I knew someone with a severe stuttering problem who understandably went through a rough childhood. One night back in the mid-eighties he called his local suicide prevention help line in a cry for help. This took place here in Nashville, and he happened to call on a night when a number of famous country stars were working the phones to raise money for the help line. Ironically, the guy got Mel Tillis on the phone. You would think that this would be a serendipitous twist of fate and that Mel Tillis could relate to my friend much better than Conway Twitty, Charlie Pride, or the cast of Hee-Haw, but Mel only worsened matters. My friend thought that even the suicide help line guy was making fun of him, and he hung up long before Mel was able to identify himself.

Luckily, this ended up pissing off my friend considerably, and it brought him out of his depression and prompted him to go out and make something of himself. He was now determined to live life to the fullest and kick ass, as it were—all the while motivated by his hatred of some anonymous bastard at the suicide help line who thought it funny to mock those with speech impediments.

At this point in the story I always allow for a dramatic pause and then say something like, “And that young man was actually me”, or, “And that guy beat the horsepiss out of me the next time I picked on him at school”. It all depends on my audience.

I always use that story to illustrate the power of tough love when I give motivational speeches at churches, schools, or the bar at O’Charley’s after a couple of Zimas. However, it is a complete fabrication. It has no doubt helped thousands of wayward youths and drunken pharmaceutical representatives, but it is still a lie, and even lies about Mel Tillis are wrong.