Happy Turkey -- with Mormon Sauce

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?"

"What?"

"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.

"Helloooo?"

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.

Me: "Hello."

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  

6 comments:

Jennifer said... November 28, 2008 at 4:58 AM  

The Witnesses have a church on the next street - in other words, directly behind my apartment.

When I answer the door at all, they usually start out "we'd like to share with you..." and I usually respond, "no, thank you."

If they press it, I go ahead and let them know that my beliefs don't really include their God and their Bible.

I'm very nice about it, but this is such a non-confrontational culture, they really don't know what to do with that.

Dori said... November 28, 2008 at 6:00 AM  

Oy Vey.

I used to live in Idaho, Boise specifically. The missionaries there were local fixtures, which is strange since there is a huge population of Mormons there to begin with...the were always very nice people, even when they figured out that I was a big ol' queer living with my equally queer girlfriend.

I also have met Mormons abroad, and they are so very different than the ones I have met here. I had one friend that I met while living in the Middle East, I even went to one of his church services, and he accepted me completely and absolutely.

I really feel for these kids...so many of them are raised in such a straight-jacketed way...

Anonymous said... November 28, 2008 at 6:45 AM  

A Thanksgiving Anecdote, perhaps?:

I love Thanksgiving, all the preparation, that all of the kindoms of Earth are invited to the party in one form or another, the divine aromas, the all-day oven. On one particular holiday, I got a similar tap-tap-tapping on my door as I was in the midst of baking apple-cranberry pie, and who should it be but my local Jehovah's Witness, an old guy who'd been to my house a couple of times before. This time, though, was different. For one thing, he brought along his wife (this turned out to be a significant difference to my experience). For another, he showed up on my holiday, and this fact put my wary on alert. "What are you doing here?" I asked, still smiling at this point. "Well, we like to catch people at home," he said. ("Oh, really...?" I thought.) His wife had this strange look of reluctance on her face. "Well, I can't really chat today, because I'm busy cooking," I said, starting to get aggravated now, because it dons on me that the Witnesses don't believe in holidays. At this point, I was expecting to have to press the point (since I always seem to need to), when the wife chimes in, asking about what I'm fixing, and as she begins to back away toward their car, suggests to me that sipping wine during the process, even at that early hour of the day, is one of the precious gifts that only the cooks get to really enjoy--speaking as someone who clearly knew what she was talking about, which surprised me. I realized it was a three-fold message--she was raising a sort of virtual "toast" to my revelry, apologizing for their invasion on my celebration, and revealing herself as not a completely bought-and-sold Witness. In hindsight, she seemed to me to be a little miserable that she found herself NOT doing what I was doing.

I never answered the door to that fellow ever again, because it really, really bothered me that his anti-holiday beliefs made him willing to impinge on my holiday--my holiday of gratitude, no less. It seemed rude, finally, and I might have wasted too much energy working up a fume about it, had his wife not offered her conciliatory gesture.

They live in a strange world, it seems to me. I'm very thankful that I don't live there.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Lambness

Renee said... November 28, 2008 at 8:24 PM  

I have to say your reaction is the same as mine when they come crawling to our door. I have admit the last time I was not polite. I asked them why they were bothering to try and recruit me when the church has made their position on POC very clear. They stood there dumbfounded as I closed my door.
I agree it is creepy to have people come and knock on your door and try and spread their faith this way.

RubyRomaine said... November 29, 2008 at 3:24 AM  

One of my old friends used to take off his clothes to answer the door when the LDS and JOHO preachers came.

My close friend Amy just moved to a small town near Salt Lake City since it was the only place there was a job opening.

Amy has a great family but she is social and loves to have lots of friends. She is very depressed since all the women she meets are not interested in talking to her once they figure out she only has three kids and she is not a Mormon.

Amy says she feels like the only liberal feminist in the state. If anyone has progressive friends in the SLC area, let me know.

When I lived in Boise and worked as an RN, some of the patients refused to allow me to be their nurse because I wasn't Mormon. This is not a joke.

Here is an article, "580 reasons to leave the Mormon church."

http://www.lifeafter.org/reasons.asp

pidomon said... November 30, 2008 at 7:26 AM  

I'm glad you and your beloved had a nice thanksgiving!

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