Misconceptions of My Youth
Recently I was forced, under some duress, to admit to having been wrong on a number of occasions. My candor was lauded, and I found I rather enjoyed the resulting elevated esteem in which I've been held. So, in the spirit of being as frank and open as possible, I've decided to admit to a number of non-truths I've clung to over the years. I hope to receive all of your pats on the back without delay.

Connecticut is the largest state in the union.
When I was a kid my family made regular trips from our house in New Jersey to my grandparents' house in Massachusetts. To get there we'd go through a little bit of New Jersey, a little bit of New York, a little bit of Massachusetts — and in between, a whole lot of Connecticut. My sister Jen at some point explained to me that Connecticut was the largest state in the union. Seemed reasonable to me. To this day it seems interminable.

My father drove a train for a living.
Very simple conclusion — he claimed to be an engineer, and he took the train to work every day. Engineers drive trains, right? He vehemently denied this, but I thought he was kidding.

Ice cream often contains inedible pits.
No joke. For many years, any nut I encountered in ice cream was delicatedly removed from my mouth and put aside. Only after an awful lot of convincing did I take the plunge and finally bite in.

It was not simply coincidence that Ford was the name of both my parents' car and the president.
I never fully understood what the connection was, but they had the same name. To be fair, I honestly wasn't certain what "president" meant, either.

Leaving water running would eventually fill a house with water, drowning all the occupants.
I was probably admonished once about leaving the water running, or I'd flood the place or something. I'd also heard vague talk of floods filling houses with water, drowning the occupants. A clear case of "be careful what you say to kids, because they're likely to believe you."

The final episode of M*A*S*H signified the last time anyone would ever see the show. Ever.
It was at this point, at the age of 8, that someone finally explained to me how TV works, with syndication keeping shows going long after their first run was over. But not until after this most-watched-TV-show-ever aired. All I knew was that everyone was very sad, both in the show and all around me. And I was sad, too, because they all said that was it — M*A*S*H was over. Once I found out the truth, I really didn't see what all the fuss was about.

"Present" is just another way of saying "future." "Excellent" means very, very bad.
While I'm forgiving, I still give blame where blame is due. And my sister told me both of these, apparently before she knew better, either. I recall knowing some incorrect definition of "splendid," as well.

While mirrors seem more or less impassible, there is still a very good possibility of there being a way though to the other side.
Chalk it up to a very realistic dream, and some spacial perception difficulties. As a kid I didn't fully understand how all the rooms in our house fit together — which wall of which room, that is, bordered on exactly what other part of another room. I did have the idea for a while that there were unseen voids or something where the walls didn't seem to match up. And in some dream in which the mirror at the end of our hall led into another hall with more rooms, the idea of undiscovered parts of the house was given some credence. I kind of wish I still had this uncertainty.

R2-D2 is a large, vicious, menacing robot with many arms bearing terrible weapons.
Yes, Jen, this was you, too. The night before first seeing Star Wars, my sister relayed to me all the hearsay she'd gathered about the various characters in the movie. R2-D2, she explained, was a robot with many various arms with which he could grab various things (all true, but not a complete picture at all). And in the formulaic science fiction with which I was familiar at the time, "robot" equaled "evil." That night, as we played Star Wars for the first time, I recall walking Frankenstein-like with arms outstretched, lumbering menacingly while announcing "I AM R2-D2!" in a voice reminiscent of Robbie the Robot.