It’s official. We’re really home. Last week we had our first visit from Jehovah’s witnesses.
It was a nice, spicy morning. The winds were just right so that the whole neighborhood was beset with the scent of nutmeg from the McCormick plant. As I drove home from the gym I was thinking about what a treat that is, and how I’m sure that every time I smell that I will always think of the first time we realized that we might be spending the next thirty or so years downwind from pumpkin pie spice. Coming up our street I noticed some people in suits standing in front of a house. Then I noticed a lot more people in suits, looking somber and standing around the house that has had a sign in front that reads “Oxygen in Use, No Smoking.” I reached the obvious conclusion, and my very first thought was to wish the departed a happy passing. My very next next thought was wondering what that house will list for in a few months. It’s really cute.
I got home, and had started getting ready to shower when the doorbell rang. I peeked out the bedroom window for a preview of my visitor, and saw the corner of a large purse. I figured it was safe and went to the door. I was greeted by two well-dressed ladies who were “going door to door in the neighborhood talking about the bible.” My first thought was “shit,” followed by some righteous indignation (a theme?) that these people would dare step into my intellectually and spiritually evolved little world. Then there was the voice. There was a clear little voice in my head that said, “Be nice. These are people sharing their ideas. Just be nice.” Something in me softened. I was still kind of aggravated – Max was squirming in my arms, Stan was plotting his escape through my feet, Jamie was grumbling on on the couch, and I smelled bad and my hair was sticking straight out; I was a housecoat and a cigarette away from being on Animal Cops. So, which one of us is crazy? But I answered their questions without lying or revealing too much (“Are you Christian?” “We’re a mixed family.” “Do you go to church?” “From time to time.”), I took their literature, and they were on their way in probably under four minutes.
To be fair, I did flip through their literature later in the day, looking for something redeeming in it, some strand by which we’re connected. There was a leaflet about domestic violence being wrong in the eyes of god (that’s good), a special article for teenagers about why they shouldn’t play violent video games (cheesy, but I dig) and an argument against evolution that didn’t make any sense. That was sort of neat. I read the whole thing, which was sequenced something like:
Generally agreeable statement about life.
Scripture.
Statement in support of their case, sort of related to the scripture.
Scripture.
Statement in support of their case, not really related to the scripture.
Scripture.
Statement in support of their case, not at all related to the scripture.
Generally agreeable statement about life.
Conclusion that engages the reader. “Do you see now why evolution is not possible according to god’s law?”
Do you see now why The Watchtower went into the recycling bin?
