A Plea for Privacy

I live next to an elderly couple who have basically adopted me as one of their own kids. The old gent or his wife often ask for my help in various projects. This weekend "we" are having a yard sale.

The old guy has done some remodeling to their house, including new doorknobs on the interior doors. Nothing wrong with the old ones, but his wife wanted a different style. So in setting up for the sale he displayed ten or a dozen old knob sets. Some were "privacy" knobs which could be locked/unlocked easily from the inside and unlocked from the outside in an emergency by using a small screwdriver.

Among the customers this morning were a Hispanic man and boy. They made quite a contrast. The man was so overweight that the bottom two buttons of his shirt weren't fastened and the resulting gap showed a glimpse of unappetizing hairy stomach. But the boy presented a much more attractive aura. He wore blue jeans with a crease ironed into them. They were held up by a belt with a rodeo buckle. His collared Western shirt was tucked into the jeans. There was not an ounce of fat on the kid. His black hair was combed over in a style that was almost 1950's-looking. I guessed his mother had probably played a role in making sure he cut a dashing figure while cruising the sales with Papa. He looked so innocent that you couldn't imagine a naughty thought ever crossing his mind.

The boy stopped the minute he saw the doorknobs. He was immediately attracted to them, moving to other tables but always coming back to the door locks. He tried several locking and unlocking them with their thumb buttons. The ones that weren't designed to lock he eliminated quickly. At last, after several trips back to that table, he settled on a suitable knob and called his Pa-Pa over for a conference.

The dad was completely against purchasing a locking doorknob. We couldn't understand their Spanish, but there was clearly a struggle of wills taking place. The young man pleaded; the old guy refused. After a couple of heated conversations, the kid reached toward his back pocket and pulled out his own wallet. You could hear him telling the old man: "Alright, I'll buy it with my own money."

But Papa was so strongly opposed that he snatched the doorknob out of the boy's hand and banged it down on the table. With that he gave the boy a command. The two of them marched out to their truck and left.


You know what I think, don't you? And you think the same thing, or you would if you'd been there watching the boy try those locks: He wanted a lock for his room. He wanted privacy for himself, and there it was, in the form of a cheap used lock that he was even willing to purchase with his own money. That lock will fix everything, he thought. With that lock on my door I can do "IT" without anybody guessing what I'm up to.

I felt so bad for the kid. There was a passing moment where I almost grabbed up the lock and ran after the truck, thinking "Dammit! I don't know this boy from Adam, but I'll buy him a lock myself!"

That scene will haunt me for days.

Anonymous