It’s not easy to knock on doors. Not because people are rude—but because your mind whispers, “don’t do it, there are lions out there.” Most of the time, it’s wrong. Except this time.
I started canvassing at the corner of Jimmy Wisdom Way and Livingstone. I calmed my nerves by taking note of my steps. One after the other, up the front stairs of a house. I knocked on the door. Or rang the doorbell. Or both. I was nervous.
Was a lion coming to the door?
My thoughts melted away when a friendly neighbour came to the door. “Of course I’ll sign up. This is great…” She said all the things that your mind doesn’t tell you before you knock on doors.
Were all the doors on Livingstone going to be smooth like this?
I kept going, but the not-homes were winning. And that’s when I ran into her.
She was walking out the door, when I made my pitch. She interrupted me and dismissed me with a “I don’t live here!” And kept walking out without looking at me. I said, “Ok, no problem,” and went to the next house.
The lady next door was great. Welcoming and curious; it was like meeting an old friend. She wanted to know more about this newsletter I was proposing.
So, I didn’t notice that the lady who had dismissed me earlier was prowling by the driveway, stalking me. She raised her voice, interrupting us. “That’s what you do?” She growled. “You ask for people’s information without showing any ID!?” She was scowling and angry.
I got my back up. I got angry too. But what came out was, “We have to be neighbourly, you know!”
I didn’t know what else to say.
But afterwards the lion lady got me thinking. Why isn’t everyone at the door like her? I mean, we are strangers. We all have the right to our privacy. And many of us are very guarded about it.
After 5,000 doors, only two people treated me like a threat. So why don’t we all demand ID? Why don’t we all assume danger?
When I knock on doors in the area, I identify myself as Robin and that I live nearby on Glenholme. Very few people have asked me to prove it.
Not everyone who answers the door signs up. Many just say, “no thank you,” or “I’m not interested.” Some suspicious neighbours wave their hands at the window and shoo me away.
I wish they would be all yeses, but a quick “no” is also helpful. It keeps me moving on quickly.
Despite all the reasons we have to distrust a stranger knocking on the door, and there are good ones, people are still answering. And when they know it’s a neighbour, almost no one is like the lion lady.
Because most of us still choose trust over fear. And that choice is what holds a community together.
