What? you ask? How random!
I offer the following evidence:
My first boyfriend - you know, the boy you "married" when you're four and playing kickball or flashlight tag out in the suburban neighborhood that is your great big world before you enter school? - was a morman. His mother thought I was a bad influence because I took ballet classes. Clearly, she knew of my demonic tendencies to plie and releve. (Tendu, anyone?)
One of my favorite movies, Latter Days, is about a gay Mormon boy.
I lived in Belmont just during the time the LDS temple was getting built. Can you imagine how many Mormons there were running around Belmont when that thing opened?
Earlier this spring, I was randomly in Harvard Square (I'm NEVER in Hvd Sq these days...), enjoying a slice of pizza at The Garage, when three Elders walked in and sat down at the table next to me.
On my way to Baltimore a few weeks ago, there was an entire HERD of them waiting at the baggage carousel.
And now, there's a cluster in Gloucester.
I kid you not. I saw two of them walking while I was bicycling to the Cape Ann Farmers Market last Thursday. I nearly bowled them over as the wandered along the side of the street without sidewlak.
"On your left. ON YOUR LEFT! ON! YOUR! LEFT!"
I should have added, "So far on your left you'll get whiplash if you even try to catch my eye."
But I didn't.
But I didn't.
So, is this enough "Mo" to convince you of the random connection? No? How about this?
THERE ARE THREE MORMONS SITTING BEHIND ME ON THE TRAIN. READING SCRIPTURE. OUT LOUD.
Oy vey!
