24 July 2006
170
R. Linda:
It must be said -- I be not one for solicitation by religion. I am now seeking a NO SOLICITORS sign for me property, the very place that is my safe sanctum of *Hermitude (another new word -- definition see below). What religious belief I practice on me property or choose not to, should be me own free choice and I should not be subject to hell and brimstone scripture lessons on me front stoop. No, no I should be able to look out me door and admire the wooded seclusion and not be stressed out by the uninvited, as well as the unknown person or persons, who would to debate me in scripture which I do not know to quote, debate, or admire one way or the other.
I was thus so bedevilled on Saturday afternoon, that I found meself acting out of character and cursing up a blue storm. I had planned me day around roof work, and having a mere two days to get the work done, I had no time for pleasantries with people I have never seen before, who, uninvited took up me valuable time with what they considered valuable information to give yours truly (who they must have thought was in sore need of saving, just on me looks alone) the word that I, me, yours truly, was damned if he did not repent NOW.
There I was gazing fondly at me private abode when I saw a silver nondescript car creeping slowly up the driveway. There getting out, were three of the four occupants all dressed in their Sunday best on a Saturday, and then there was me, dressed for roof work, in New England overalls and a tatty shirt, all set for a day of hard slog. I was not fit to receive anyone, let alone the Sunday best headed me way with leaflets and Bibles in tow.
They came upon me, two women and one child. One woman was wearing glasses that winked in the sunlight almost blinding yours truly and I almost fell backwards trying to flee, but no, they saw yours truly and came to aid me from what they thought was me losing my balance, therefore, nullifying me flight. In other words, I was snagged.
I was greeted by no names given, just that they happened by the neighbourhood and seeing I was at home, decided to pay a call. Now an aside here, I live on a one-lane dirt road with maybe two other homes on it completely wooded. None can be seen from the road including mine. The road is about four miles long. But, they found me! ME!
In my baffled state me tongue went speechless as I gapped at them in astonishment. Even I can't see me abode in the winter when all the leaves are down, let alone when the leaves are up in the summer. Many a time I have spent driving by trying to find me own place it be that obscure.
"We would like to drop off this literature if you don't mind," the lady in the winking glasses pushed it at me. "The world is in a sad state and if we turn to God and find him in our hearts, believe as he intended us, there is a chance we will see the heavenly gates in peace."
OK
"We are having a summer camp in August and we will be studying scripture and listening to speakers on the subject of what we can do to help our fellow man through prayer and understanding of God's word," she continued. I held up my hand, I know a rude gesture to be sure, but yours truly had enough. I was so tempted to say, "While you are away at summer camp, I am going on a trip to Paris to stay in luxury and eat myself silly on French cuisine and wine." But that would be a lie now, wouldn't it? The devil was in me but I bit me tongue.
Consider this though, I had a Catholic school education back in Ireland, as you know, and it was decidedly NOT a pleasant experience. And a few of me classes were not based on language, numbers, or the history of the world, no they were focused on the Holy Roman Church and being a good Catholic. So to have left that world behind and now suddenly find meself thrust back into it, brought up all those ruler slappings, and kneeling and contrition that the bile was in me mouth.
"I am sorry but I be a roofer working on this house and getting paid by the hour, I really must not have the good people of this house pay me for standing about. You understand," said I lying to holy people. OH, a pox on me for sure for THAT.
They looked from one to the other then the woman who had been doing all the talking said to me, "Is there anyone at home, we'd like to speak to them."
"Oh no, no, no, there be no one about the place. Come back another time why don't you?" And with that, I turned me back and up the ladder I went. However, they spied me unsuspecting wife in the kitchen and to the door they went and rapped anyway.
I wanted to wring their necks for not believing me, but what could I do? Of course, Tonya comes to the door wiping her hands on a dishcloth and opens the damn door to the same spiel I was given. Only she stopped them way before I had with a, "I'm sorry my pie is going to burn if I don't get back, why don't you talk to my husband up on the roof."
YUP, she sold me down the river she did. I lay up on the roof me head banging the shingles, me hammer hanging limply at my side in defeat.
They apologised and said they'd return another time when we weren't so busy. Without a look at me, the liar cursing in a whisper up on the roof, they got back into the silver car and instead of leaving, sat there with windows closed discussing me I was sure of it. Finally, they slowly backed out the way they came, their eyes never leaving me.
Faith and begorrah!
Me wife comes out and says to me, "Why did you send those Jehovah's Witnesses to me?"
"I did not. I told them I was a roofer and that YOU weren't at home. But they saw YOU in the window and set upon you when they had no luck with me."
That was the end of it, or so I thought. Tonya informed me different ones dropped by the following Wednesday and she put on a Jamaican accent acting like the housekeeper and made like she did not understand them. They returned a freaking day later not the two from the day before but the same three from last Saturday and she hid from them. Oh begorrah, we were no longer free in our own house.
The next Saturday, I still had some roofing to do and the accommodating Mr. Weasil offered to help me since his wife and my wife were doing a crop share walk together. With two of us at it, we got my roof fixed. We were full of dirt and grim and were going to meet the ladies at a cafe later, so I told him to go shower and I'd clean up the tools.
Just as I got me tools put away what do I spy creeping slowly up the drive, but that same piece of silver crap car from last week. It was an 'oh no' moment that was for sure. I stood there waiting since I had been seen and two of the three from last week got out with the man who was driving the car. Reinforcements I thought to meself, I must be in sad need of saving.
I stood there watching them come towards me when all three hesitated a fraction. I thought that was odd, but gave it no real mind. The woman with the winking glasses smiled at me and then over me shoulder causing me to look back. There on the porch railing dressed in my wife's terry-cloth bathrobe was a squeaky clean Weasil. The lad's cheeks glowed and his hair was damp, and he looked the picture of youth and gayness when I spied my wife's fuzzy slippers adorning his big feet. I might have laughed and would have with Tonya not there to see her clothing being adorned by the young whippersnapper, but with the Jehovah's Witnesses standing there looking at us with odd expressions, I stifled the urge.
"What can I do for you today?" I asked with a forced smile.
"Well . . . we'd like to just take a small amount of your time to give you this and tell you that the world is in a state and the end may be near." The bespectacled woman shoved the same flier at me as the last time and before I could open me mouth the young Weasil piped up from behind me.
"Oh wow, iz dat a Watchie-tower thingie? Gabe give it here."
I handed it over my head at him realising he was speaking in a falsetto. He wet his fingers in theatrical display and turned the pages browsing through. Then he got off the railing and holding the flier addressed the attended before him.
"Come have a baff (bath)."
Yup, that's what he said as their faces turned to something I cannot describe. Horror, maybe?
"Ima bout to go inta da baff, come join me, we'll bathie together as iffy in baptism and we'll discussie the endie of the entire worldie."
Well, why didn't I think of something so witty, so clever?
"Well, are ya comin'?" He started to turn away and as he headed into the house he removed the bathrobe with a flourish and there he was, buck naked (except for fuzzy pink slippers) walking into the abode. WELL . . . they couldn't get away from us fast enough. The silver piece of crap zoomed at 100 mph in reverse out of me drive and peeled rubber on a dirt road as they hastened off.
I turned to Weasil, "A bath? Come join you for a bath?"
He smiled broadly at me, shrugging into my wife's bathrobe once again.
"Werkies everytimie," he said.
"Thank you, I think." That was all there was to say. I have not seen the Witnesses to Jehovah's Word since. I am Jehovah-free as a result and would tell you if the pesky group of gospel quoters comes to your home, just ask them to take a bath in a Michael Jackson-sounding voice.
Gabe
*Hermitude: (her'mithu'd) adjective - Behaviour reflecting the desire to be left entirely alone; dwelling in total isolation from everything human and annoying. The need to hide far away from opinionated and stupidly insufferable people. State of being unavailable for scripture debates, panhandlers selling packratism-like objects, and being free to run amuck in one's own woodland dressed as a reindeer.
Copyright © 2006 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
It must be said -- I be not one for solicitation by religion. I am now seeking a NO SOLICITORS sign for me property, the very place that is my safe sanctum of *Hermitude (another new word -- definition see below). What religious belief I practice on me property or choose not to, should be me own free choice and I should not be subject to hell and brimstone scripture lessons on me front stoop. No, no I should be able to look out me door and admire the wooded seclusion and not be stressed out by the uninvited, as well as the unknown person or persons, who would to debate me in scripture which I do not know to quote, debate, or admire one way or the other.
I was thus so bedevilled on Saturday afternoon, that I found meself acting out of character and cursing up a blue storm. I had planned me day around roof work, and having a mere two days to get the work done, I had no time for pleasantries with people I have never seen before, who, uninvited took up me valuable time with what they considered valuable information to give yours truly (who they must have thought was in sore need of saving, just on me looks alone) the word that I, me, yours truly, was damned if he did not repent NOW.
There I was gazing fondly at me private abode when I saw a silver nondescript car creeping slowly up the driveway. There getting out, were three of the four occupants all dressed in their Sunday best on a Saturday, and then there was me, dressed for roof work, in New England overalls and a tatty shirt, all set for a day of hard slog. I was not fit to receive anyone, let alone the Sunday best headed me way with leaflets and Bibles in tow.
They came upon me, two women and one child. One woman was wearing glasses that winked in the sunlight almost blinding yours truly and I almost fell backwards trying to flee, but no, they saw yours truly and came to aid me from what they thought was me losing my balance, therefore, nullifying me flight. In other words, I was snagged.
I was greeted by no names given, just that they happened by the neighbourhood and seeing I was at home, decided to pay a call. Now an aside here, I live on a one-lane dirt road with maybe two other homes on it completely wooded. None can be seen from the road including mine. The road is about four miles long. But, they found me! ME!
In my baffled state me tongue went speechless as I gapped at them in astonishment. Even I can't see me abode in the winter when all the leaves are down, let alone when the leaves are up in the summer. Many a time I have spent driving by trying to find me own place it be that obscure.
"We would like to drop off this literature if you don't mind," the lady in the winking glasses pushed it at me. "The world is in a sad state and if we turn to God and find him in our hearts, believe as he intended us, there is a chance we will see the heavenly gates in peace."
OK
"We are having a summer camp in August and we will be studying scripture and listening to speakers on the subject of what we can do to help our fellow man through prayer and understanding of God's word," she continued. I held up my hand, I know a rude gesture to be sure, but yours truly had enough. I was so tempted to say, "While you are away at summer camp, I am going on a trip to Paris to stay in luxury and eat myself silly on French cuisine and wine." But that would be a lie now, wouldn't it? The devil was in me but I bit me tongue.
Consider this though, I had a Catholic school education back in Ireland, as you know, and it was decidedly NOT a pleasant experience. And a few of me classes were not based on language, numbers, or the history of the world, no they were focused on the Holy Roman Church and being a good Catholic. So to have left that world behind and now suddenly find meself thrust back into it, brought up all those ruler slappings, and kneeling and contrition that the bile was in me mouth.
"I am sorry but I be a roofer working on this house and getting paid by the hour, I really must not have the good people of this house pay me for standing about. You understand," said I lying to holy people. OH, a pox on me for sure for THAT.
They looked from one to the other then the woman who had been doing all the talking said to me, "Is there anyone at home, we'd like to speak to them."
"Oh no, no, no, there be no one about the place. Come back another time why don't you?" And with that, I turned me back and up the ladder I went. However, they spied me unsuspecting wife in the kitchen and to the door they went and rapped anyway.
I wanted to wring their necks for not believing me, but what could I do? Of course, Tonya comes to the door wiping her hands on a dishcloth and opens the damn door to the same spiel I was given. Only she stopped them way before I had with a, "I'm sorry my pie is going to burn if I don't get back, why don't you talk to my husband up on the roof."
YUP, she sold me down the river she did. I lay up on the roof me head banging the shingles, me hammer hanging limply at my side in defeat.
They apologised and said they'd return another time when we weren't so busy. Without a look at me, the liar cursing in a whisper up on the roof, they got back into the silver car and instead of leaving, sat there with windows closed discussing me I was sure of it. Finally, they slowly backed out the way they came, their eyes never leaving me.
Faith and begorrah!
Me wife comes out and says to me, "Why did you send those Jehovah's Witnesses to me?"
"I did not. I told them I was a roofer and that YOU weren't at home. But they saw YOU in the window and set upon you when they had no luck with me."
That was the end of it, or so I thought. Tonya informed me different ones dropped by the following Wednesday and she put on a Jamaican accent acting like the housekeeper and made like she did not understand them. They returned a freaking day later not the two from the day before but the same three from last Saturday and she hid from them. Oh begorrah, we were no longer free in our own house.
The next Saturday, I still had some roofing to do and the accommodating Mr. Weasil offered to help me since his wife and my wife were doing a crop share walk together. With two of us at it, we got my roof fixed. We were full of dirt and grim and were going to meet the ladies at a cafe later, so I told him to go shower and I'd clean up the tools.
Just as I got me tools put away what do I spy creeping slowly up the drive, but that same piece of silver crap car from last week. It was an 'oh no' moment that was for sure. I stood there waiting since I had been seen and two of the three from last week got out with the man who was driving the car. Reinforcements I thought to meself, I must be in sad need of saving.
I stood there watching them come towards me when all three hesitated a fraction. I thought that was odd, but gave it no real mind. The woman with the winking glasses smiled at me and then over me shoulder causing me to look back. There on the porch railing dressed in my wife's terry-cloth bathrobe was a squeaky clean Weasil. The lad's cheeks glowed and his hair was damp, and he looked the picture of youth and gayness when I spied my wife's fuzzy slippers adorning his big feet. I might have laughed and would have with Tonya not there to see her clothing being adorned by the young whippersnapper, but with the Jehovah's Witnesses standing there looking at us with odd expressions, I stifled the urge.
"What can I do for you today?" I asked with a forced smile.
"Well . . . we'd like to just take a small amount of your time to give you this and tell you that the world is in a state and the end may be near." The bespectacled woman shoved the same flier at me as the last time and before I could open me mouth the young Weasil piped up from behind me.
"Oh wow, iz dat a Watchie-tower thingie? Gabe give it here."
I handed it over my head at him realising he was speaking in a falsetto. He wet his fingers in theatrical display and turned the pages browsing through. Then he got off the railing and holding the flier addressed the attended before him.
"Come have a baff (bath)."
Yup, that's what he said as their faces turned to something I cannot describe. Horror, maybe?
"Ima bout to go inta da baff, come join me, we'll bathie together as iffy in baptism and we'll discussie the endie of the entire worldie."
Well, why didn't I think of something so witty, so clever?
"Well, are ya comin'?" He started to turn away and as he headed into the house he removed the bathrobe with a flourish and there he was, buck naked (except for fuzzy pink slippers) walking into the abode. WELL . . . they couldn't get away from us fast enough. The silver piece of crap zoomed at 100 mph in reverse out of me drive and peeled rubber on a dirt road as they hastened off.
I turned to Weasil, "A bath? Come join you for a bath?"
He smiled broadly at me, shrugging into my wife's bathrobe once again.
"Werkies everytimie," he said.
"Thank you, I think." That was all there was to say. I have not seen the Witnesses to Jehovah's Word since. I am Jehovah-free as a result and would tell you if the pesky group of gospel quoters comes to your home, just ask them to take a bath in a Michael Jackson-sounding voice.
Gabe
*Hermitude: (her'mithu'd) adjective - Behaviour reflecting the desire to be left entirely alone; dwelling in total isolation from everything human and annoying. The need to hide far away from opinionated and stupidly insufferable people. State of being unavailable for scripture debates, panhandlers selling packratism-like objects, and being free to run amuck in one's own woodland dressed as a reindeer.
Copyright © 2006 All rights reserved
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