Apr 052011
Cover of Watchtower magazine from 1907

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One day last week a car pulled up in the driveway and two guys I had never seen got out. They were dressed nicely…shirts and ties, short hair, one of them looking to be in his late teens or early twenties and the other about 60 years old…and I knew exactly who they were.

It was time for my…drum roll, please…monthly visit from the Jehovah’s Witnesses. They come by about once a month and try to save me according to their interpretation of the Scriptures while I tell them that I AM already saved according to my interpretation, we have a nice little fifteen minute chat, and they go on their way.

It is rarely the same two people each month, and even more rare for it to be a couple of guys. Most often it’s a couple of ladies from the church, usually older ladies.

It hasn’t been that long since I would have characterized them as elderly, but since I am now approaching that age I use the term “elderly” less and less.

Anyway, their visit made me think of Jehovah’s Witnesses that used to visit me almost fifteen years ago when I lived in a different place. Back then I had two little old ladies that visited me from the Jehovah’s Witnesses, and they came to see me weekly.

This same two ladies. Weekly, as in EVERY week, without fail. On Saturday. At 7:30 AM.

Now understand, I’m a fairly nice guy, and I like older people (especially since I am one now, but I did then too), but I live in the country now, and I did then as well, because I like my solitude. I enjoy being around other people…sometimes…but I prefer to choose when and where, and at 7:30 AM on a Saturday morning at my back door is not my choice of when, and it is not my choice of where, either.

And these two little old ladies were there… At my back door… On Saturday… Every Saturday… At 7:30 AM.

This was beginning to have a serious impact on my solitude. Personally, I didn’t think that was a good thing.

At first, the conversations were much like the one I had with the two gentlemen last week. They would try to save me, I would let them know I was already saved, we would have a cordial fifteen minute conversation, I would accept their tracts and the newest copy of the Watchtower Magazine (it does have some good articles, you know), and they would leave.

After several weeks the impact on my Saturday mornings solitude was beginning to get to me. My cordial greeting got lowered a notch to polite. They still tried to save me, I still told them I was already saved, I still took the Watchtower they offered, and the cordial conversation became simply polite and got shortened to about 5 minutes, and to be perfectly honest, became a bit strained (at least for me. They were still just as nice as they could be.). I did ask them…politely…to quit coming by at 7:30 on Saturday morning’s.

They kept coming. On Saturdays. Every Saturday. At 7:30 AM. These ladies were determined, if not reasonable. They were going to save me whether I wanted their version of salvation or not, and that was all there was to it.

The shorter, polite (not cordial) conversations became very brief and, I must admit, I got a bit abrupt with them…and I quit taking their Watchtower Magazine. You would think they could take the hint, right?

Oh nooo…there was a soul to save and they were gonna save it. I started waking up at odd hours in a cold sweat in demented anticipation of yet another assault on my now shattered solitude. Something, even something desperate, had to be done.

Somehow I had to run these ladies off…permanently…but how? I still had enough of a grip on my sanity that I didn’t want to do anything to harm them or that was illegal, but I had to do SOMETHING.

Then…an epiphany…a light bulb went off…a Eureka Moment!

I was so excited that I had a solution to my problem that I woke up at 4:00 AM the following Saturday in anticipation of putting my plan in motion. I started getting ready about 7 o’clock, just in case they were early. I was peeking out the window every 5 minutes I was so excited.

Then…there they were! I hid behind the kitchen door, waiting for them to knock, and when the knock finally came, I threw open the door, and with a big smile on my face, announced loudly:

“Hallelujah…I’m ready to be saved! Y’all come on in and let’s talk!”

I was standing there naked as a jaybird.

I miss my weekly copy of Watchtower.



All about Bob the nutjob!

Bob is a N Georgia blogger, homesteader, yurt liver, self-sufficiency nutjob, pig farmer, political activist, politician baiter...and the best damn cook you know that doesn't make a living at it.He can be followed onTwitter. You can also "Like" our Facebook page.

  8 Responses to “Two sweet old ladies and a deranged redneck”

Comments (8)
  1. That was great…so much for saving your ass 🙂

  2. But Hansi…I miss my Watchtower!

  3. YESSSS! Haha 🙂 Hey it’s your house.

    On a side note. It bugs me when people try to win you to their church rather than Christ. If I say I’m a believe and already have a church lets talk like brothers and sisters. Drop the script and stop trying to convert me to your \religion\. Competition between church’s is not the point.

  4. I know what you mean Jessica…a church is just a pile of lumber and concrete anyway…God’s house is everywhere you (and I and everyone) are.

    BTW…I was over at your blog poking around the other day and saw your post about finding |a diamond in the rough” property. I’m afraid that if you and the hubby come check out my yurt you’ll have to hod your nose…I’m one of those nasty ol’ smokers. Trying to quit, but haven’t accomplished that yet.

  5. I just crack my door about 3 inches, with my foot backstopping it and my shoulders in line. (It would take a fullback – a pissed off fullback – to get in my house.) At that point I can smile benignly, inform them “I’m already washed in The Blood, y’all have nice day, y’hear.”

  6. They’re nice enough, and we usually have a nice conversation. I like to gig ’em a little asking, “Since y’all believe there’s only room for 44,000 souls in heaven, aren’t’ you worried I’ll get your spot?”

  7. 🙂 I really did laugh out loud…..were you really, absolutely, truthfully, positively stark naked?

  8. roz…absolutely, positively, truthfully, without a doubt. I opened the door with the same clothes on that God sent me into this world wearing.


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