Ding DongPosted: June 24, 2013
I believe that I’ve mentioned once or twice that Mom has a compulsive need to open the front door within seconds of hearing the musical chiming of the doorbell. If we’re home, she yells at me as though I were deaf and hadn’t heard the bell. If we’re not home, she leaps into her wheelchair and opens the door herself. It’s this second type of behavior that concern to me the most because she doesn’t know who’s on the other side of the door. It’s usually a package that was delivered and left on the welcome mat. Or a salesman or someone who wants to provide some sort of service, like landscaping, roofing, driveway repair, or window replacement. But, you never know.
I’ve talked to her repeatedly about NOT opening the door when we aren’t home. There’s nothing more tantalizing to a thief than being greeted by an 87-year-old granny in a wheelchair. She might as well carry a placard around her neck that says “Welcome. Come In. Steal Me Blind!’
It happened again last week. Bill and I were working in the office and we had been watching a man go door-to-door on the other side of the street. He finally crossed over and came up our driveway. A few seconds later the doorbell rang.
“Don’t answer it,” Bill whispered. “I think it’s that guy from the investment company again.”
“Okay,” I whispered back as I leaped up and headed out of the room.
“Where are you going?” he whispered urgently after me. “I said, don’t answer it.”
“I’m not going to,” I replied softly from the doorway. “I have to stop Mom from yelling for me.”
I jogged quickly down the hall and into the living room just as Mom was getting ready to call for me to answer the door. She gave me a curious look when I skidded around the corner, pointed behind me at the front door and put my index finger to my lips.
“Aren’t you going to…“ she started.
“No,” I whispered loudly. “It’s a salesman and we don’t want to answer the door.”
“Why not?” she asked, truly befuddled that we wouldn’t want to contend with an uninvited solicitation waiting with unyielding persistence on our front doorstep.
“Because we know who it is and we don’t want to deal with him again so we’re not answering the door,” I replied as he pressed the bell once more.
“Well then I’ll answer the door and tell him we don’t want whatever he’s selling,” she offered hopefully as she started to push herself off the couch.
“No, Mom,” I whispered harshly. “We know who it is and we’re not interested.”
“Oh, alright,” she sighed, falling back onto the cushion, obviously disappointed.
I started to walk away than paused and turned back to face her. “I’m curious. Why is it so important to you that you’d risk life and limb to answer the door when more likely than not it’s a stranger waiting on the other side?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, pausing to give it a moment’s thought. “I guess because you never know,” she continued. “It might be Publishers Clearing House with my check.”
“Well, if we aren’t home, be sure to look out the kitchen window first. If there aren’t any balloons, and cameras the odds are there isn’t going to be a check either,” I said as I walked away. “Otherwise, don’t open the door to strangers, Mom!”
“Okay,” she called after me. “Balloons and cameras first, then the check.”