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Thanksgiving is a day when family and friends often gather and tell and retell stories of the past. It makes me wonder just how much of what we remember about our childhoods is real memory and how much is what we have heard again and again over the years and how much the facts have been reshaped each time these old stories are told. Maybe there is not that much difference between memoir and fiction writing and both are a way of telling the truth about our lives. Anybody else have an opnion about the difference between 'true lies' and truth?