By happenstance, and to the writer’s delight, there was once a wide range of religious zealots living at the Farm all at once. There often wasn’t love in the air with such a hodgepodge of humans living together in one place, sharing a kitchen, laundry, and dining room. Conversations around the table became increasingly rabid and headstrong because, of course, each person was right, and everyone else was wrong.
The more observant residents remarked that the whole scenario would make one hell of a reality show. Such programs abound on the modern-day boob tube, catering mostly toward a certain breed of idiot: Illegal Mexican Maids, The Gayest Room, High School Daycares – all supposedly real shows about real people. But no network in their right mind would even want to come close to touching the true-life theological hot potato that came to be at the Mooney Family Farm one year, where the slippery slope of clashing religions collapsed like a landslide.
The faith-based follies began with the arrival of the Seventh Day Adventists – a sect mostly known for their strict diet and insular culture. Luke and Lorna moved in with their young son. The woman turned out to be something of a bitch, never once smiling or idly conversing with others, and obsessed with cleaning. Baskets of clothes and linens constantly filled the small washing area. Lorna did more laundry than a Chinaman in a mining camp.
They were hoarders and quickly gave George a run for his money in the clutter department. The front part of the breakfast nook was packed with towers of boxes and totes filled with food, all stacked halfway to the ceiling. Glass towers of Mason jars swayed precariously every time a dog or a child rushed through the narrow pathway leading to the kitchen. Other belongings spilled out onto the porches and into the parking bays outside.
Copyright © 2019 J.J. West. Fiddlesticks! Tales From A Country Ghetto.
All Rights Reserved.