To knock or not to knock | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: To knock or not to knock | Previous Challenge Entry
By Pamela Reed
11/13/12
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Growing up as a middle class girl in several small cities, my parents have always taught me to respect others. Small city living makes you vulnerable to gossip if your actions don’t line up with the restraint of those around you. One of the rules of our family was that when you visit someone, even a relative, you knock on their door. After they answer it and invite you in, then and only then do you enter their home. As a mother of grown children, I will knock, wait for someone to answer, and then enter my son’s home. I also knock when I visit my parent’s house.

Six or seven years ago, my husband had a business partner whose family would just enter our home. When the business failed and we decided to move north, that was the one shining star in the whole scenario. We would be able to get away from such huge disrespect. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love him and his whole family. His wife is special to me and his children have stolen my heart for life. I just have such irritation with a family that does not respect the fact that I make the mortgage payments and I deserve privacy in my own home.

The land in the north is absolutely beautiful and we slowly adjusted to life in a new location after almost four decades in the southern portion of the state. As a normal part of adjusting to our new environment, we met Dale and Joyce, the neighbors. We seemed to hit it off and became fast friends. They were very helpful whenever we had a need and because we purchased a ranch, we quickly realized that horseback riding together was more fun than riding alone; and safer too.

The phone rang one day and Joyce called to say that she was coming down to bring a horse magazine to show me. She was excited about an article in it and thought that I might be interested also. A few minutes later, she was standing in my dining room. What? I didn’t hear a knock at my door. Maybe she knocked and I didn’t hear her and she thought that I had called “Come In.” Oh, I so hope that’s it. I convinced myself that it was a one time error; that is, until the next time Joyce came to visit and it happened again. How could I run into two inconsiderate families? I thought that I had left the one and only one behind in our moving.

Many things went through my family’s mind. Maybe we should consistently keep the doors locked so that she has to knock. Maybe we should put some kind of a buzzer on the door. Why should we have to anything? What is wrong with parents teaching their children right actions instead of allowing them to offend those around them?

Checking the postings on the wall of Facebook is a daily event. Reading what others wish to share with the world is a relaxing way to end the day. Yesterday, an item caught my attention in a big way. A poster of “Fake Friends” and “Real Friends” listed the differences between the two. About two thirds of the way down, my breath was taken away as I read:

Fake Friend …………… Would knock at your front door.

Real Friend ……………. Walk right in and say “I’m home.”

Could it be possible that the very action that I wrote off as disrespectful and rude was actually supposed to be showing me that they totally valued their relationship with me? Not that I will change my behavior, but I need to think about my irritation with others. Yes, I believe I will.

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