My New Screen Door Policy

“No one loses their innocence. It is either taken or given away willingly.”

― Tiffany Madison, Black and White

I visited my blog this evening.  It's like visiting an old friend who tells the sames stories over and over again.  Sometimes it seems repetitive and stale and sometimes I'm surprised by how fun it is to rehash old times.  I uncovered this old post from 2011.  It was a draft that I never published.  The subject was an undeserving someone vying for my romantic attention.  When I re-read it, I was reminded of how silly I felt to be conned by an unscrupulous schmuck.  I was going to delete it because it's ancient history now, but I after a second going over, I realized that the experience had a lasting effect.  I won't say it ended my innocence, but it did cause me to drop my rose-coloured-glasses to the point of my nose for a bit.

I dusted off this old tidbit and decided to leave it here for consideration and contemplation; maybe as a cautionary tale for my readers about dogs that bite.

Welcome to 2020.  I've been missing you!




There is a lot to be said about the old "Open Door Policy." I made a pledge to be the kindest person I know and so throwing open my door and welcoming others in seemed to be an appropriate choice. Thing is, you let enough people in and one of them is bound to arrive with an agenda that slowly unfolds to reveal their very own Jerry Springer episode. And so it has. One hateful person who savours anger like an after-dinner mint was committed to taint and stain what would otherwise be a perfectly simple life. While I get to control the impact it has on my life, the continued attempts are tiresome and quickly eroded away any goodwill I had remaining. I grew weary of the charade.

And so...I adjust.  In true Wordpecker form, I peck around the festering wound left in the tree to excise the infection and find knowledge and truth and I begin the healing process.

The problem, of course, is trying to introduce a change that protects my pledge to be kind as well as my lifestyle. The answer, it seems to me, is to adopt my own "Screen Door Policy" at least temporarily...we'll see how it works. Everyone gets a smile, an ear and my full attention, but if it feels like I'm waiting for your pitch...I probably am.

I have good instincts about people. My problem, I know, is that I choose to ignore these instincts from time to time. I do this in favour of a romanticism I harbour about the inherent good of the human spirit and my admiration for those that overcome adversity to become successful, contributing members of society. I'm not the only one. Lots of people cheer for the underdog. There is a special affirmation in this rise to victory that bolsters the human spirit.   It's a celebration of hope and possibility.   Is there any other circumstance when we cheer so loudly for the most unlikely winners?  No!!!! We want it so bad, we believe in it so fully, that it seems our desire alone can and will force it to happen.

Sadly it can't.  

Sometimes the underdogs are just dogs. They come to our homes canvassing for sympathy and while we think we are helping, we are enabling...at our own cost in some cases.  These dogs stand on our welcome mats with smiles and stories and we open our doors and invite them in before we discover, too late, how feral they have become...either by choice or by circumstance. And then a beautiful idea becomes a spectacular mess and we writhe in the shame of our naivete and innocence.

Naturally our inclination is to close the door and take in our welcome mats but that seems to me to be an admission of defeat. When we shut everyone out, we're locking ourselves away and that changes who we are. We lose.

The screen door fits. It's a tentative acceptance of the certain truth that there are dogs in our midst but it allows us to commit to the idea that many people who arrive at our doorstep bring friendship and kindness. They stay--or leave--and our lives are better because we opened our door to their possibility.