I grew up with the admonition from my parents that, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Also, “Do not share your opinions unless asked, and then do so cautiously.” And, “Keep private thoughts private — especially in marriage.” In other words, don’t share your feelings and thoughts — remain an observer of life, not a participant. Indeed, that was the safer stance for my immigrant parents who fled the Russian Revolution, and then the war in France. “Be careful of what you say in public” was good advice. But I grew up in a safer world, and so these admonishments fell on deaf ears. I wanted to know others and be known by them. My experience with openness started with my first encounter group. I was absolutely thrilled to learn that openness was a must for successful communication, and that baring one’s soul or at least one’s most intimate thoughts would lead to certain closeness with a mate, happiness with friends and success with business colleagues. How truthful to be — with whom and in what situations — has always remained a question mark for me. To be truly known by one’s spouse and be known in return is surely the underpinning of any good relationship. It is a goal I have always aspired to — and succeeded at in my marriage, I might add. Yet my friends tell me that such reciprocal knowledge would spell catastrophe in their marriages and that there are many things better left unsaid and unknown?— perhaps vaguely guessed at but never confirmed. To be known, yet loved because of and in spite of one’s strengths and weaknesses, to be respected even though mean-spirited thoughts and embarrassing behaviors are out in the open, to have no secrets from one another is for me the ultimate achievement of a perfect union. It is within such a context that anger can be diffused, irritations can be smoothed out and pain can be healed. I tried never to lie to my children, although I had lied to my parents (in youth) to escape reprimand for a misdeed and in older age, to protect them from bad news they could do nothing about. My children, however, did not appreciate my honesty and told me my private life was my affair and friendship was expected from friends and parenting from parents. I took this to mean that parenting was to forever remain a one-way street. You are there for them, with comfort, advice and availability, yet you are to require little in return apart from the privilege of being asked for comfort, advice and availability. My life and my thoughts were of little consequence compared to their lives and thoughts. Of course, I know that in a real crisis, my children would care and be there if needed, and, in fact, they were after my husband died. Now that I am living alone, they have remained concerned and caring, perhaps in even a bit of a role reversal. Actually, it is very satisfying to know the children, though middle-aged themselves, have a parent they can absolutely trust to always have their best interest at heart, have confidence their questions matter, their opinions are taken seriously and their problems, no matter how small, will be considered important. No friend has the patience to discuss for hours the best color to re-upholster the sofa, but I could do this with my mother as my daughter does with me. Honesty with friends is where the question marks come in. Somewhere between not telling the truth because it may hurt and telling the truth because it can help, a decision needs to be made. The decision is difficult because it is based on how I would feel if I were told, which may be very different from how he or she would feel under the same circumstances. In wanting to be helpful, I have hurt; in trying to be truthful, I have been seen as rude. Yet when an honest opinion is being sought, my friends turn to me. The dividing line between white lies and truths is whether the person can do anything about the problem. I will not tell an unattractive friend that she is hopelessly so, but will comment, if asked, about her new unbecoming haircut. Some people play it safe?— they are always complimentary to everyone. This, for me, is not being a real friend. I can only trust friends’ opinions if I know they can also tell me the unvarnished truth. Yet, openness in the wrong setting with the wrong people and at the wrong time can lead to negative reactions and lost friendships. Unsolicited feedback is often unwelcome feedback. Alas, we do not live in the best of all possible worlds — yet with our families and friends, perhaps it is possible to know and be known. And even though I have lived my life contrary to my parents’ advice to be mysterious and difficult to get to know, I have found great happiness in honest relationships, openly sharing feelings, conveying unpopular opinions and always being willing to re-examine even dearly held beliefs. — Natasha Josefowitz taught the first course in the U.S. on women in management and is the author of 19 books. She lives at White Sands La Jolla