It Was Twenty Years Ago Today, Part XIII

Monday, October 21 1985. Beginning my second week in the Twin Cities.

It was starting to dawn on me that the city wasn't necessarily going to carry me in on its shoulders.

9AM job interview in Edina. It was another "group interview", this time for a gig selling Encyclopedia Brittanica, door to door through the suburbs. I went because I figured I should - any kind of job interview was better than nothing, and it's all good practice. Right?

I sat for two hours, listening to the ins and outs of the job, and finally figured "Even I'm not this desperate". I left without accepting a position.

I had a few hours to kill before my next appointment, to check out a "roommate wanted" ad over by Powderhorn Park, in south Minneapolis. I found my way in to Uptown Minneapolis, and killed an hour at the old Odegaard's books, at the new Calhoun Square. In a state full of Waldenbooks and B. Daltons, I'd never imagined such a thing - a big, huge store where you could browse, read, sit! I dragged myself away and chugged slowly down the decaying morass of West Lake Street, getting to the appointment just in time.

The ad said they were looking for a Christian guy, to pay 1/4 of the rent for a room in an upstairs duplex just off Powderhorn Park, a pretty little urban park surrounding a curious little lake, right in the middle of a neighborhood that was well on its way toward becoming one of Minneapolis' biggest, nastiest crack dens. I didn't know this at the time.

I rang the doorbell, and the guy - six-footish, late twenties, wearing a full beard and mustache, answered. He showed me around the place - kitchen privileges, one bathroom, smallish but cozy bedroom, not much storage (not that it mattered to me), $175 a month, heat included. "Nice", I said. "I'm interested!".

"Well, we gotta talk first. Let's go take a drive".

Unusual.

We walked out to his Chevette, climbed in, and took a turn around the neighborhood. "So - where are you at with your faith".

"Um..." - Huh?

Now, bear with me a bit, here. I'm pretty articulate about a lot of things. Religious faith is not one of them. I certainly have a lot of it, but expressing it is one of those things I pay ministers to do in church.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Wrong question.

"Look, me and my roommates are charismatic Catholics. We need to make sure you're in kind of the same place on your religious journey as we are. So - have you ever had a charismatic experience?"

"Well, I haven't - but then, I've never seen anything that says one needs to, to be a Christian".

"But you do!", he said, emphatically.

"But what about...", I started, quoting a verse from Corinthians that says, in about as many words, that each of us is called to faith with different gifts; speaking in tongues is one of many; mine was...

"Look, I'm just covering my ass here", he said, turning back up the street to the duplex.

Wasn't aware there was a biblical injunction to cover your ass, I thought, and have wished for twenty years that I'd said.

I am pretty sure I shook my head visibly as I took my leave and walked to the car. I'd imagine he did the same.

Then it was back to Burnsville for more job hunting. It was looking like it was going to be along, dry autumn.

Posted by Mitch at October 21, 2005 06:33 PM | TrackBack