Of all things far from simple or ordinary – the perfect diet is among our biggest conundrums.

Hubert was the quintessential common man, but far from ordinary. Imposing at six feet tall and over two hundred pounds, he was as loud as he was tall. Not a sentence left his mouth without a little added color, usually in the form of a few well-placed expletives. He was a man who would “break in” a shirt by wearing it several times before tossing it in the wash, and could usually be found with a cigarette barely clinging to the side of his mouth. On most days, bathing was too much trouble. He had better things to do.

For most of his working life, he lived on the road as a cross-country trucker. It was not until I was born that he decided to spend more time at home. This burly and somewhat obnoxious man was my father and to me, he was larger than life.

I knew something others did not. Inside that tough guy was a much gentler soul, a man of deep conviction, fiercely loyal with a heart that knew no end to giving. Although he cared little about exterior appearances, inside was a master who gave voice to his thoughts on life through storytelling, marked by a wicked sense of humor. Throughout my childhood, I was his captive audience.

I heard about the night the brakes failed on his truck during an electrical storm. A bolt of lightning had destroyed the street lamps on both sides of the road and dad was driving downhill in total darkness. His only salvation came during those moments when lightning would hit the power lines on either side of the road creating temporary bursts of blue light. The temporary light allowed dad to see just long enough to remain on the road before plunging his cab onto a runway exit at the bottom of the hill. Dad was not a religious man, but at that moment, he was certain that an unseen presence had protected his life.

My dad was both hunter and collector; and in the middle of the living room, mounted above the sofa, was the focus of his favorite story. Neighbors would frequent our home to hear my dad’s tall tale about the owl he accidentally killed while fishing. He was at Ike’s private lake when the bird flew dangerously close to his small boat, threatening to upend him and his fishing gear into the water. He had no choice but to shoot it and it was only after the bird was dead in the water did he realize he had killed an owl.

“What happened next Hubert?” the wide-eyed neighbor asked.

“Well,” dad said after a long deliberate pause, “I drug it into the boat and hid it in the barn until I could sneak it out after dark. It’s illegal to kill an owl, you know.”

“Why Hubert, it’s a wonder you didn’t get arrested.”

I never understood why no one questioned the gun my dad had in his boat or the complete lack of feathers on my dad’s mounted prize; but at that point, I was always glad to be sitting behind the poor soul so captivated by my dad’s story. While they seemed not to recognize the obvious discrepancies between my dad’s story and the trophy on the wall, they certainly would have recognized the incredulous expression on my face. In reality, the owl was the opposite end of the antelope mounted on the opposite wall, a furry rear-end with two plastic eyes and a tail elongated into a beak.

Unknown to my ten-year-old self, my dad’s idea of truth was far different from my own. I saw truth as a set of concrete facts, bits, and pieces to be analyzed and judged. My dad saw truth through the larger lens of life – complex, integrated, and experienced as meaningful life lessons. Feathers meant little in the complex relationship between my father and the natural world, made vivid within the context of a good story.

Much of our story with food follows a similar pattern. Books abound with dietary guidelines for weight loss and health, each with its own unique ideas and assurances that promise better results over their competitors. Yet, the quest to reclaim health remains an elusive dream for many people despite efforts to adhere to the tenants of the latest diet book or program.

Research studies involving lifestyle approaches continue to bear witness to the plight of our dietary quest. Studies designed to measure the long-term success of various weight loss and health-promoting plans are inherently difficult. First, there is the issue of time. How much time must pass before lifestyle change is deemed a success? Additionally, bias is a potential issue that could skew the result of any research study. Whether the subject is a program or a food product, results can be overstated, misused, or skewed when the research sponsor has a financial stake in the outcome. Authors and industries, such as food and agriculture have much to lose if the research results do not favor their particular plan or food product. Then, there is the issue of variables. Which factors in the study were responsible for the results? Nutrition is complex; it makes sense for changes to work together to produce workable solutions and this is where the water gets really muddy. Research, by design, must have a particular focus, a particular theory to test. Yet, separating the focus from all the outliers that might affect the outcome is problematic. Add these pitfalls to the myriad of plans and programs authored by organizations or individuals without a shred of credible evidence or credentials and the recipe for disaster is complete. It is little wonder that well-intended individuals flip from plan to plan without ever achieving sustainable results.

Folks, the dietary waters are very muddy. We live in a time when information abounds and much of it is convincing, but inaccurate or incomplete. Indeed, there is big money in research results, book sales, product sales, and speaking engagements. I could go on, but I think you get the point.

What if we look at the bigger picture? If nutrition is a complex topic, are there finer points that remain consistent across most dietary recommendations? While the pundits argue over saturated fat and ketogenic fare, among others, whole and plant-based foods find common ground in most dietary plans. There was a good reason why my mom told me to eat my vegetables. It’s simply good basic nutrition.