Happy Turkey -- with Mormon Sauce
Thursday, November 27, 2008
So, last night, after I had been dialoguing with some internet being about whether the LDS had overstepped itself as a non-profit during the Prop 8 campaign, I was unwinding by surfing the tubes, and I heard this little "tap-tap-tap".
I pulled my earphones off one ear for a moment and cocked my head to listen. Nothing.
I called up to my Beloved: "Was that you?"
"That tapping -- was that you?"
Then I hear a muffled voice as I get up to listen again -- a faraway voice that is not unusual to hear in my house when a friend has arrived at the back door without calling first: "Helloooo?"
I stopped in the hall, trying to figure out whether it's at the front door or the back.
Then I hear it again -- tap, tap, tap.
Front door. Why don't they use my (rather lovely, if I may say so myself) doorbell?
I advance toward the door a bit cautiously. None of our friends come to the front door.
It is the gateway for the landlord, Jehovah's witnesses, and people who are arriving as clients, students, or attendees to our events.
I wasn't sure why I felt cautious -- I live in the town of 911 calls involving annoying relatives and wandering goats -- but cautious, I felt.
"Who's there?" I call out as I move toward the door hesitantly.
I switched on the porch light and opened the door a crack.
They were two. They were tall. There were matching trench-coats, white shirts, black ties, and name-tags.
It was the FUCKING MORMONS!!!!!!!! (repetitive screeching noise from the shower scene in Psycho)
I don't know if I rolled my eyes. I do know that I lacked the will to even fuck with them. After all, it's not their fault that they were born into a family that thinks it's a really swell idea to farm their young men out to do door-to-door harassment on the night before Thanksgiving.
Taller of Them: "Hi -- "
Me: "I really don't have time to talk with you right now." Lie. (Goddammit! My own Mormon-allergy has led me to violate one of my own core principles -- Authenticity! -- Curse you, Josepth Smith!)
Taller of Them: "When would be a good time for us to come back?"
Me: "Well, actually, I'm a minister myself, so I'm -- all set with my spiritual condition."
Taller of Them: (brightening...... kind of..... amidst the befuddlement) "Oh really! Where do you preach?"
Me: "Right here."
Taller of Them: "Really! People just come here?"
Me: "That's right."
Taller of Them: "Oh. Well . . . . could we help you in any way?"
Me: "Uhm -- No. Thanks anyway."
I close the door.
Beloved has now come down and is in the kitchen, prepping some stuff for tomorrow's meal.
"Who was that?"
"The fucking Mormons."
"Really? The night before Thanksgiving? That's weird. Well, I guess they figure there'll be a lot of people home. Did you talk to them?"
"Kind of. I told them I didn't have time to talk to them."
"Which isn't technically true."
"Yeah, I know. Well, no, really -- I don't have time to talk to them -- because I don't want to talk to them, and I don't want to make time to talk to them, and . . . . . yeah, I lied."
I recounted the interaction in brief, pretty much as above.
Then I started thinking about how I had missed this great opportunity to enlighten these fresh-faced boys (and yes, they were boys) on the impact that their precious church was having on queers like me. But then I thought that I probably wouldn't have been very coherent, and that I probably would have come off pretty venomous, after my afternoon conversation with the bone-headed internet being, and then I thought that it was really stupid to expect these hypnotized boys to take any kind of responsibility for the world-wide svengali that has sent them out on these "missions" so that they weren't home competing for wives, and then I thought that what if one of them were a closeted or questioning gay and I might be the only out queer he might ever meet and that might save his sanity and/or his life, and then I thought that it was truly mean to send these poor boys out to make religious cold-calls on woo-woo lesbians, and then I just thought -- "Oh fuck it, I'm going back to my computer".
I've never understood Mormons or Jehovah's Witnesses (who strangely, also never use the doorbell) -- the thought of tracking down a complete stranger to see whether they might want to hear about my spiritual beliefs sends the creeping willies up my spine in the first place, and in the second place, the concept of living in a world where every single person who doesn't believe as I believe is doomed to the worst fate imaginable is something I simply can't wrap my brain around. What a sad, sad world-view.
Anyway, despite my visitation from the Moroni twins, and my almost certain damnation in their dimensional reality, I managed to have a fine Thanksgiving. For the first time in many years, it was just me, my Beloved, the cats, and a rather sumptuous turkey breast. We watched two disappointing DVDs, but the cuddling on the couch compensated for the video-blahness.
I am truly thankful, today, for many things. I'm healthy, happy, well-loved, and in love. My mom's medical report was all clear. I have fine friends, and I live in paradise.
Posted byPortlyDyke at 10:03 PM