People live either a garage-door-open or a garage-door-closed existence. One allows the circulation of air and the possibilities that can arrive on the wind, the other, I suppose, gives the blessing of solitude and the illusion of privacy. Those that choose closed must ultimately face the demons within, those that pick open must deal with whatever wanders in.

Wednesday is like Thursday, Monday identical to Saturday. As the day wanes it must inevitably give way to shorts and a t-shirt, rock music and TV sports and cigar smoke that fills the old garage, leaves a delicious, musty aroma and then eases out the open garage door, moving unseen through a garage-door-closed world.

In a saloon, especially one in Deadwood, you should never sit with your back to the door, but in a garage it is standard practice and that’s what I’m doing this particular night, making friends with a cigar, livin’ a rock & roll fantasy, when a voice calls out, “Excuse me, sir.”

I’m not startled just a little peeved at the interruption. I slowly stand, turn around and there stand two young lads who have no idea what they’ve just walked into. They appear to be about fifteen years old, with white long sleeve, button-down shirts, ties, pressed slacks and polished shoes that indicate they’ve had some sort of fashion training. They both hold black books in their right hand and, well, I’ve seen this act before.

I tell them to come in and I sit back down and get back to my smoke. Without looking at them and before they can say another word, I say,

“Come to save my soul have you?”
“Yes sir, I, I mean, no sir,” says one young man with a southern accent. “We’re with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we’re here to spread the word of god.”
“Yes sir,” the other lad chimes in, “What do you know about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints?”
I said, “I know they don’t want to be called Mormons anymore because the world believes the word Mormon is a synonym for bigamy and that Joseph Smith claims to have found a third book of the bible written especially for him and that Mormons were basically run-out of every part of this country until they found refuge in Salt Lake City and …”

The young men stood paralyzed. I thought of offering them a cigar but that would just confirm the fact that, in their minds, I was the antichrist.

“Are you here hoping I’ll become Mormon?” I asked them. “No sir, we just want to give testimony to the saving grace of Christ.” … “Okay, go ahead. You don’t mind if I smoke do you?” “No, sir.”

They went on to tell me about their mission, about what they believed and about how earthlings have abandoned the Bible so God had to send down Joe Smith and the Latter-day Saints to save us. They were smart, well-spoken and I liked them. They seemed like real messengers and in some roundabout way, it was a holy moment in a smelly place.

“Do you think the Mormons are gonna win?”
“Pardon me, sir?”
“Do you think the Mormons are gonna win? You know, most people think their religion is the only way to heaven, that one religion is better than all the others and that at the rapture God will appear and open a gold envelope like at the Academy Awards and announce, ‘the winning religion is … the EPISCOPALIANS’!”

I said, “It’s all the same God, right?”
“Yes, sir.”

They asked me about my religious opinions. “I use the Catholic mass as a mechanism to have a conversation with God,” I said. “But the Catholic church is just as imperfect as the people sitting in the pews. Organized religion is just a framework, any framework is good it could be Catholic or Mormon or Hindu.”

“I told them that my God likes football, a good rock ballad and laughs at funny jokes.”

♦

Anyway, before Elder Matthews and Elder Abernathy left they asked if they could come back and talk some more. I remember thinking that a man could do a lot worse than raising a son who is unafraid to go out into the world, who has the guts to stand up for his convictions and the smarts to give those convictions a voice.

America is mostly a country of fine young men, and sometimes they unexpectedly walk through open garage doors.

Photo credit: NoJuan on Visualhunt.com /CC BY-NC-SA