A few years ago, we were all busy commuting every single day trying to get home from school and work, five days a week. At the weekends, we would travel outside of the state seeking some sort of pleasure – window-shopping, trips to the museums, the zoo and other fun places.

One day, when I got home from picking up the younger child from her daycare, I found my husband waiting for me which was rather unusual. He normally would open the garage door in anticipation of emptying out the boot of my car if he knew I went shopping. That day, all I had energy for was to get the kid and came home. As soon as I opened the car door, he said, “You have to buy curtains!” I stared at him and rolled my eyes. Nobody tells me to buy curtains, damn it! I will buy curtains if I see any that I like. Meanwhile, people can just drive by the house and peer into my living room while trying not to drive their vehicles into the ditch. “What brought that up?” I asked, with that you-are-ridiculous look. He started telling me about one of our neighbours down the street. Apparently, an older gentleman had stopped by the house while I was gone. According to that old man, he felt sorry for us because we were clearly in dire need of furniture so he told my husband his church has living room sets for free.

We lost all of our furniture when Hurricane Katrina came to the Mississippi Gulf Coast in 2005. Our utmost concern at the time was finding a place to live so we ended up buying a house in this Hick town. I am not very particular about furniture – I just want them to be non-fugly at a reasonable price. There were not very many shops opened immediately after the hurricane so we took our time. After all, my husband found our bed that I absolutely love to death (yes, I would most likely disassemble it and drag it out the door if we have to evacuate again). I mean, other than beds and dining room sets, why do we need furniture?

My husband went into an almost tirade about the old man who knocked on the front door. He was telling my husband about his church, about the various churches in the neighbourhood (which is funny, really, because this is the state with the highest number of churches. You find houses right next door to churches around here). My husband told the old man thank you and he will think about it. His main annoyance was that people are neighbourly enough to stop by and offer free stuff to those too poor to furnish their brand new houses. He exclaimed: I wish people would just leave me the fuck alone. I WENT to church and I am not going back, damn it. Of course I asked my husband why didn’t you tell him that? He said, “Nah, I am not going into that with him. I was watching television. And this is all YOUR fault! If we had curtains, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Fast forward a few months later when my husband was out of town on business. That same old man came to my front door, asking if I needed help with my yard. It was now summertime and I do not mow the lawn. Truth be told, I could not start the lawn mower and I have no desire to make it work, either. Besides, it is MY lawn I will do what I please with it. The old man proceeded to tell me that his church will be having visitors from Massachusetts in the next few days. Some of these people do not have anything to do – apparently, they have more volunteers than relief work that needed to be done. I decided to be a Good Samaritan and agreed to let one of the teenagers come by the house to mow my yard. The old man was of course asking if I went to church and if so, where. I told him that we do not go to church. He was clearly disturbed by the revelation and hesitated before replying, “Well, you can come to my church, I will show you around…” I politely declined. Undaunted, he told me that they needed someone to sing and play the piano. I told him I cannot carry a tune if my life depended on it. He told me it is okay, a lot of people cannot sing either but they still do. I told him people yell at me to shut up when I try to sing karaoke. He laughed at that and he was still telling me about God and all of the good stuff. At that point, I was beginning to re-think about my religious beliefs. Maybe I should be persistent like this old man and tell him I have my own religion, thank you very much. I decided against it though, because I did not think he would be able to grasp any other religious beliefs. Here is a man who truly believes in his God and no other. So much so that he assumed everyone else believes in the same God he does – who am I to correct him and shatter his world? Besides, I was warming up to the idea of my lawn looking neat and trim and not having to worry about snakes slithering around the perimeter of the house in the summertime.

He finally stopped talking about God and proceeded to ask how I managed. At this point, I was completely in awe of this old man. He was assuming (yet again) that I did not go anywhere while my husband was gone. He indicated towards my husband’s trucks next to the garage. I am a car person and I have no desire to drive a truck regardless how shiny or fabulously current they are. I also prefer to keep my car in the garage where cars belong. I suppose he assumed that my garage was full of stuff and that I do not drive – which was why the trucks were at the same exact spot the entire few months that my husband was gone. He was concerned that we would run out of food, I suppose because he asked where I got foodstuff. I told him that I ordered my food online and I got other stuff from “around here.”

He finally said (after what seemed like an eternity) that he would send someone over to my house at the weekend with a lawnmower and left.

I marvel at myself for being vague and not rude to this nice old man who was obviously just being neighbourly. I learned long ago not to argue with other peoples’ (religious) convictions. Religion defines people. You cannot and should not argue with millennia of faith – blind or otherwise.

The old man did not come back to my house. I see him from time to time, in his old pick-up truck, driving past my house. A few times, as I was leaving my drive, he would patiently wait while I close my garage door, steering my car onto the road, making my way “around here.”

Living in this hick state is truly illuminating…