What I've Learned

I had a phone conversation that began pleasantly, then went south.

"Mr. Governale," the caller said, "I want to tell you how much I enjoy reading your column."

How nice that someone would phone me at home and express satisfaction with my weekly efforts. I thanked her.

"Particularly the ones" she continued, "you did about disasters. About how people make money scaring people by predicting disasters."

Those columns were satisfying to write, especially the ones about the Mayan calendar nonsense.

We chatted about fear mongers for a minute, then the caller asked, "How do you think the world is going to end?"

"If it should end, it won't be predictable. It will be sudden and unexpected, kind of like the ice storm of 1998. One morning we woke up, and everything was frozen."

We reminisced a few moments about snapping branches and loss of power.

This all was fine, but I'm not much for chattiness and small talk, particularly with strangers. I was about to thank the woman for calling when she asked, "Do you think these are the last days, like it says in the Bible?"

Something in the way she asked the question caused an alarm to ping inside my head.

I'm probably out of step with many of my readers in both religion and politics, so try to keep my column free of both topics. There are, after all, plenty of interesting things to write about without adding to the rancor that plagues us these days.

Do I think these are the last days like it says in the Bible.

"Yes," I said, ignoring the ping.

"Do you have your Bible handy?" the woman asked.

The alarm changed from a ping to a ding to a clang.

"Uh, no. Actually, I'm in the kitchen cooking."

"Is there a time I can call back? I'd like to spend about 10 minutes sharing with you some important Bible verses about how the world ends."

Oh my weary soul. She had not called to compliment me on my columns, but to "share some Bible verses" with me. That had been her intent from the beginning and she'd carefully maneuvered the conversation so she could do that.

I was reminded of a Christmas card we received. It arrived in a Christmas-card type envelope with a handwritten address. Having just opened and displayed several cards, I opened this one, too. Inside was what looked like a Christmas card, but was not. It was an advertizement, a special offer just for us. We could tell it was just for us because our names were handwritten.

Closer inspection revealed that the writing on the envelope and the card wasn't handwriting at all. It was a font meant to look like handwriting. I really hate deception, and this bit of trickery in the name of commerce irked me. It was admirably done, but irked me, nonetheless.

And so it was with my caller.

It's difficult for me to be rude to people, so I put the woman off as gently as I could, using one truth to avoid another.

"I'm making soup right now," I said. (I was.)

She wanted to pin me down to a time she could call back and take 10 minutes (I'm sure it would take longer than that) to share some truths from the Bible. I said that this week would be difficult because we have children and grandchildren staying with us. (We do.)

Would there be some evening when I'd have a little free time, she wanted to know.

Not really. I work most evenings.

Writing your column?

No, out of the home – at a real job.

When she finally rang off, I chopped some cabbage to add to the zucchini, carrots, onion, and celery already in the crock pot. I don't usually practice deep breathing while making soup, but this time needed a few calming breaths to get me through.