I try to explain that we’re not interested in going to church. He keeps reading the contents of his piece of paper to me. He is incapable of processing shame or social cues. Instead of doing what I should have done-saying, “None of your business, goodbye!”-my Mormon politeness gene kicks in and I try to explain my family dynamic without confirming his information.Īfter a minute or two of this awkward back and forth, Younger Dude looks miserable. But the Mormonator has no idea that this is weird and creepy. He is naming my stepkids, listing their ages, and asking if they live there. Since the phrase “blended family” has not entered the Mormonator’s databanks yet, he is confused. But, go figure, my last name is different from my stepchildren’s last names.
Someone-I think I know who-snitched on us and had the records of my wife and her kids forwarded to this ward. The Mormonator starts interrogating me about the people who live in my house. He is a Mormon Terminator: He can’t be reasoned with, he can’t be bargained with, and he absolutely will not stop. Older Dude has what I soon realize is a DEFCON 1 critical mission: To find out who lives in this house and if their names match those on the crumpled piece of paper he is holding. Younger Dude is already looking uncomfortable. You might as well say you’re from the local diocese. (A story for another time, and more boring and less principled than you might hope.) What this means is that I’m not LDS. He is “from the ward.”Īt this point it’s important to know that I had my name removed from LDS Church records a long time ago. Older Dude says he forgot his too, in the car. Younger Dude sees me and immediately says, “Oh, I forgot my mask!” and reaches into his pocket, pulls one out, and puts it on. I mean, who the hell makes a house call on a Sunday morning during a worldwide pandemic? I’m making room for my own safety. I’m not doing this as a courtesy to the door knockers they’ve already lost my sympathy. I put on a mask, open the door, and step back a few feet to give us space. My kids laugh at me when I burst out with such gems as, “Oh, that’s a home run!”Īnyway, I’m in my pajamas (Kirkland brand, of course), I haven’t had a haircut in a year, and I’m dealing with one of my kids’ mini-emergencies when the doorbell rings. I also rediscovered baseball and became the Guy Who Yells Out What Just Happened in Sports Games. The first hint of my change was waking up one day to realize that all my clothes were from Costco. Time may have warped and shifted around the virus, but it also marched on.
#SKY HAVEN TEMPLE PUZZLE 1 FULL#
One Sunday morning, about eight months into the pandemic, I hit full middle-aged dad mode.
#SKY HAVEN TEMPLE PUZZLE 1 DOWNLOAD#
Or, download the audio here: The Mormonator and Me: A Pandemic Face-off His book “What Do You Mean, Murder?” Clue and the Making of a Cult Classic will be published in 2023. John Hatch is an editor at Signature Books.
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