I worry that I've become a fabulist when it comes to my childhood. Maybe worry is too strong — I have yet to find anyone outside of my immediate family who cares whether my memories before, say, summer 2005 are fictionalized or not. My dad started me on lying to strangers at the young and impressionable age of 17 — we were biking across the Brooklyn Bridge, in the city on a college tour road trip when, stopped for a moment to look back at Manhattan, a woman asked us where we were from. "Colorado," we told her, which she took to mean that we'd biked the entire way to New York from Colorado. We went along with it, explaining how we'd done it in about a month, and how Indiana was the worst section, surprisingly, in terms of boredom and terrestrial monotony, and how our quads had grown three inches in circumference during the time.
I grew up in Seattle, Washington, in an upper-middle-class neighborhood with modest turn-of-the-century homes and beech-lined streets. My parents were orthodontists. They shared an office, and I remember spending hours in the waiting room when I was in elementary school trying to glean an educational after-school program from the pages of Highlights for Children and National Geographic. That's all a lie, but I probably could have grown up there, and my parents probably could have been orthodontists. Who knows? Lying to strangers.
For our twenty-third issue we present Under Oath, stories and essays broadly about our promises, responsibilities, and how we try our best to avoid them. We say goodbye to our beloved '15 authors as we feature two award-winning essays by Kelsey Stimson and Kevin Patterson, recipients of the Mecklin Prize in Creative Nonfiction and the Thomas Henry Ralston IV English 80 Prize, respectively.
We also send off our class of '15 editors, Nico Preti, Nikki Sachdeva, Noah Smith, Zach Nelson, and Zev Kane, plus our invaluable publisher Sahil Seekond. We wish them the best, and look forward to the day when we might join them in reality.
So ends another school year, and Mouth rambles along.