The Joy of Sect

Interesting encounter this week.  A flurry of activity at the end of a busy work day as I pulled in the driveway; but things always only get busier just as soon as I get home of late. 

Amy had to get to a doctor's appointment, and since her car is in the shop getting The Mostest Bloody Expensive Transmission Repair In The Whole History Of The World Ever, I make a point to come home and watch the toddler at times like this.

I entered the door to the sound of a crying infant, my stoic wife lounging on the sofa with said infant on her ample bosom, patient look on her face and maternal hands simultaneously cradling and cajoling her colicky boy.  (How DO mothers pull off that look all the time?)  Our toddler was still napping, I kicked off my shoes, removed my jacket and stepped over the baby gate. 

"Here Si, your turn," and the infant was deposited into my arms as my wife became a brunette whirlwind, accumulating in her wake a diaper bag, car seat, change of clothes for infant, and changed her own clothes (so as not to smell like baby puke at the doc's) in the space of a couple minutes.

She was just in the process of strapping our sprog into the seat, still squalling, when I made the dry observation, noted through the living room window, that we were about to be accosted by a couple of earnest young LDS missionaries strolling up the driveway.  (I have to be very careful each time, by the way, to spell that acronym correctly.)   

Is there a hidden Kaminoan clone factory buried somewhere deep in Salt Lake City?  'Cause I swear they all look the same.

CAVEAT:  that bulge you pointedly cannot see is my tongue.  In my cheek.  Keep that in mind.

I opened the front door before they had a chance to ring the doorbell since there is little that drives Amy crazier than ringing doorbells in our house.  I locked eyes with the pair through the wooden screen door. Both with short, close-cropped dirty blond hair, one man slightly taller than the other so I could differentiate them (part of the cloning process), sports coats and ties under light spring jackets, one with propaganda in his hand and the other with the ubiquitous nondescript terrorist backpack carrying the remainder of the propaganda inexorably bound for the landfill or, as in our case, the recycle box.  (This is a combination of my observation and attitude.)

From their vantage, beyond me and clearly visible to the missionaries, was my Crouching Wife, Hidden Baby, making final strap checks for the sprint out the door to the doc's. Squalling still volubly evident.  In spite of this, Short Missionary (SM), the proselyte of the duo, launched into a rote diatribe while I stared at him, incredulously slack-jawed, for about 20 seconds.  Tall Missionary (TM) stood behind SM looking concerned and supportive.  I interrupted SM so that I could state the obvious: kinda busy now, crying baby, on way to doctor, please stop talking now, violence imminent.

Amy bustled past me, slipped on her shoes, jacket, grabbed the keys and was not to be stopped by any amount of earnestness.  Not even in full blown, well-groomed, blond stereo.  Persistent, SM asked if tomorrow at the same time would be convenient to come back and preach the word of Christ.  No?  TM continued looking concerned, going so far as to furrow his brow. Evening then?  Sure, whatever, just go away NOW.  Door closed, missionaries ambled on to the next house, Amy pulled out of the driveway and there was silence.  Well, muffled barking of dogs emanated from the backyard, which is as close an approximation to silence as can be expected during daylight hours.

So...

I recall, before I met Amy, encountering a Mormon Missionary Tag Team as I returned to my then basement suite from an afternoon run.  I stood outside my door and chatted with the middle-aged married couple (not clones!) for at least half an hour.  They were so encouraged by that that I got two or three return visits, and similarly long conversations, until they seemed to give up on me.  As intent as they were in their drive to convert, much more so was I in my disparaging ambivalence.  That couple, as well as the clone pair mentioned above, comprise nearly the entirety of my knowledge of the LDS Church.

I was surprised to hear Amy tell me, after her return from the doctor, that these deracinated youth are sent on a two-year mission to preach the word of Christ to all and sundry as part of their Evil Mormon Initiation Plot to Convert the World.  (I made up that last part.  I hope.)

With due respect to all the various means of religious observation that this world has to offer, I have no interest in being suborned to give up my right to religious non-partisanship by a Latter Day Saint spiritual bottle drive.

Have you ever noticed that the LDS missionaries can only be found either on sidewalks or driveways?  It's the blinders, you see.  Incapable of straying from the path.

We have an unobtrusive "No Solicitors" sign on the front of our mailbox.  I'm thinking of making up a bigger, more colourful one to stick up in its stead:

Solicitors peddling wares will be asked to leave.
Solicitors peddling an unsubstantiated one-way
path to heavenly bliss will be sped along it.

Frankly, I doubt it'll dissuade the devout.

Comments

[TerriTorial]

Thanks for the giggle.

When I was a kid Jehovah's Witnesses were always coming to our homes to well...not sure what they were there for because my Mom always told them to move along.

The neighgbor boy and I made a game of it. One would pretent to be a Jehovah's Witness, the other would think up an excuse as to why we couldn't chat.

Hours of fun I'm telling you!

[Linda]

Your cheek has been cradling your tongue quite a bit today, Wunder. Careful, it's gonna get stuck like that.
I think someone passed along a "divine" message that, as recently as last week, if I recall, that you 'n Amy was thinkin' o' doin' some wo'shippin'or somesuch??? Post it and they will come... *shivers*

[marian]

I second Linda, up there, glad to see you're all back to normal...

Myself, I would have said "I'll let you talk at me for ten minutes if you show me your garments."

[Jim (of Brazil)]

Oh man, they *are* bent on taking over the world! I saw the ***exact same*** two guys you described (or clones of them!) walking down the street here in Rio just a few days ago!

That's pretty scary!

[Alec]

I've always been a little concerned about how similar many of these missionaries are to vampires.

They're both scared of God and can't come in unless invited.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a sudden urge to install a lightning rod.

[Paul]

Dissuade the devout? They won't get it. You used too big words. Besides, all such warnings apply to the kooks, don't you know. And everyone who reads that sign on your door will say, "Thank GOD, I'm not one of those kooks he's trying to avoid." You could try this one: when you bring with you credible evidence that Hell hath indeed frozen over, I will invite you in to tea and we can talk to your heart's content.

Have you ever seen Orgazmo?

[Simon]

Paul,

I've seen part of the middle of Orgazmo at a friend's place once. It's on my mental list of movies to watch someday. To date, the most memorable bits are scenes with Ron Jeremy and the old broad about to, uh, DV/DA.

[Mark]

I enjoyed your observation and your attitude on this one. In college, I invited some LDS folk in and let them talk a bit. Later, I met a very cute redhead and went to an evening Bible study with her. They started reading scriptures from books I didn't seem to have in my Bible. I looked at the table of contents, thinking maybe they were some obscure Old Testament books I didn't know very well. Turns out they had a whole other Bible I didn't have -- the one that covers the time that Jesus came over to North America between his entombment and resurrection. It hit me then that she was a Mormon -- a different creature from LDS altogether, and to a boy raised as I was, it was very secty. She told me that she believed she would go to Heaven after death, and eventually she and another dead Mormon would be awarded a planet to populate.

I liked your Star Wars reference. Just for old time's sake -- Wookie.

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