My Latin teacher was an interesting character. New Englander by birth, and professed Northerner by culture, they somehow found themselves teaching Latin about as far North as you could get, and still call yourself in the South.

It must have been interesting for them to adjust to not only the ethnicity of the school at which they taught, but with the Southern culture that surrounded it.

The Latin teacher had sayings, stories, that I appreciated as a continual transplant; geographically and culturally. However, I am quite sure that their stories often fell on deaf, and sometimes confused, ears.

If you have ever taken Latin, which statistically factored alone, I can assume that you haven’t, you would know what it was like to translate Martial. Suffice is to say that he, Martial, was a nasty, bitter, little man. Never a nice thing to say about, well, anyone, or anything really. A professed sceptic, pessimist, and all-around horrible human being.

It was one such day, translating one of Martial’s nasty little ditties… that the Professor imparted on us one of the stories I spoke of… I do not even recall the translation. I do, however, recall the telling (quite well), and the awkward silence that filled the room for a full 90 seconds afterwards.

The teacher had a wonderful, triangular view, of language translation.

In any spoken thought, there was a path that led from the phrase spoken, up to the clouded idea, and back down to the understanding of the listener. It was a simple, beautiful process that allowed for the messiness (and relativity) of language without forcing the grammatical keys and locks that often interfere with intent and meaning from one language to the next.

I listened as they progressed through that particular phrase’s meaning quite smoothly. The joke ended with this statement… “The Man Who Tells Truth, Must Have One Foot In Saddle…” And, yet, I was the only person in the room that laughed.

2500 years. And we still cannot tell the truth.

Martial prevails.

Despite advances in Science, Medicine, and Politics. (Yes, politics has progressed beyond fascism… mostly.) We still do not like the truth. So much so that it requires slick advertising to even begin to sell it to us… We must make it flashy, controversial, elitist, or at the very least, interesting.

And, if we aren’t going to like it, well, we must be told beforehand that it is ‘inconvenient’.

If the powers that be want to manipulate us, then we are told that multiple, conflicting, perspectives are a better way to get at the Truth.

If you made it this far in the blog, you are wondering, hopefully, what this has to do with FH and diet.

The Truth is that there is not a simple answer to the diet, to the medical research necessary, to the treatments. The truth is that eating right and making good decisions is not easy or convenient. There are no easy answers.

The path of the righteous is a narrow one. The bible got that right.

Most everyone I meet feels entitled to a ‘break’ and ‘free time’. And I am at a loss to explain why that they should care beyond that… The tide of opinion is not in my favor. And with the number of advertising venues… who can compete?

Move over Martial… Pavlov is winning…