When I was about 20, I lived at my parents' home. One day, while walking home, my mom met a lady neighbor who lived downstairs from us. They talked for a while and mom mentioned me. The neighbor replied agitated, "It's not true, your daughter lives in ... (she gave the name of another city) and is studying there!"
Mom came back home and said, "You live in....".
I did not understand what she meant, so mom told me what had just happened. We both laughed. It was astonishing - the neighbors knew better what I was doing and where I lived. Better than my mom and myself.
A few years later, I laughed again when I learned that, according to gossipers, a boy who attended the school I was working at, was a son of mine. The reasoning on which the rumor was based tmade me laugh. Somehow, the blabbermouths believed that the boy's surname and my surname where the same. It was pure nonsense as the two names did not even look similar. The student's name was Lauterbach. My surname started and ended with different letters + a lot of other letters in the middle. What was the same only - both surnames were not of Polish origin. That was enough for some people to create such a silly conclusion that I was his mother. How senseless can people go?
At the same school, there was also a co-teacher, a nice guy. He was a rather usual person - a respectable educator and member of the local community, a husband, and a father. Nothing special to talk about. However, the man had a hobby. On warm days, he enjoyed doing it in the broad daylight, sitting on his balcony, where everybody could see him. What did he do? It was nothing illegal or offensive, but different enough to make people talk about him. Well, the man liked crocheting. He lived in the school area so many could notice him on the balcony - crocheting.
"Weird" was the least what you could hear in people's comments. Did he mind them? No, he did not, just continued practicing his hobby.
It is a totally different matter, when a rumor, a story made up
by gossip-mongers, is disturbing and unnerving, and not funny at all. How
do you deal with that? How do you deal with talebearers who spread lies and whisper behind your back?
In conclusion to that, what other people say or do does not define me, just the opposite. It defines them.
Why some people spread untrue stories about others is another matter. Perhaps it makes the gossipers feel better about themselves? Seems quite pitiful to me.