Mormon or Ninja? - By Tyler

Since Carmen, Annley and I moved to Easley a couple weeks ago we've been so busy that we haven't had the time to return to Asheville to officially say goodbye to our friends there. We also have a few things that still need to be moved from Asheville to Easley that Carmen and I might number among our short list of necessities - things like, oh I don't know, our bed for one. And so we've been trying to coordinate a time to return to Asheville.

There is one thing in this world that I would make the hour and a half drive for that has nothing to do with us moving, something of such importance and significance, something of such a powerful impact in my personal life that it draws at me from across the reaches of both space and time. The fantastic, unequivocal occasion? Getting my haircut. At Ananda's, mind you!

At Ananda's you don't call the person cutting your hair a "barber" or a "barbress". You call them a "stylist"! And when you come in for your haircut they immediately offer you a comfortable seat and a nice beverage. (I was impressed my first time in when I sat down and they offered me a glass of wine which I, of course, declined).

Since this is Asheville, and Asheville tends to be a little on the weird side (and since weird is something the world is more and more referring to as "stylish") the stylists, as well as the patrons, to Ananda's can be pretty swank.

Yesterday I made a trip to Asheville after work to visit my normal stylist at Ananda's to have my hair styled. She is a very nice girl by the name of Allison (not her real name, of course) who not only gives a mean haircut, but also seems to have the magical power of being able to withdraw and retain all of the most interesting details from mine and Carmen's lives, which is an amazing talent since she only sees me about every three weeks, about as often as Carmen sees me (insert rimshot). So, every three weeks, as I sit in her stylist chair we'll pick up where we left off on what's new in the Kneisly family.

This week we had a very interesting conversation. As I sat down in the usual chair at Ananda's, she covered me in the usual black smock with all the flurry and showmanship of a skilled magician revealing some fantastic illusion. After I was settled, Allison leaned forward and asked in a very hushed and private tone, "Tyler... Can I ask you a couple of questions without you getting offended?"

Recently Allison moved into a new apartment a little north of Asheville in a little town called Weaverville, NC. She's lived there for a couple of months now and recently discovered the two most unusual boys living in the unit above her. After weeks of trying to identify them without directly speaking to them, she learned from speaking to her friends, family, boyfriend, and her boyfriend's family that the white shirts, ties and black nametags were all world famous trademarks for the Mormons. She was living below a set of Mormon missionaries.

From our conversations, Allison remembered that Carmen and I are Latter-Day Saints (aka Mormons) and she was apparently thrilled to have an opportunity to have an inside source to explain some of the extremely odd behavior exhibited by these unusual neighbors. The first questions were all easy.

"Tyler, the two guys living above me aren't the same two guys that were living above me a few weeks ago - but they're dressed exactly the same. What happened to the other two guys? Is the apartment some kind of "base" for them?"

I answered that the fact that they were dressed the same was because these boys were doing a very important work and it was important for them to dress the part and look well groomed at all times. The apartment, of course, was just an apartment but the missionaries are transferred to multiple areas throughout their mission every six weeks or so. She seemed to understand. The next few questions were a little more interesting.

"I've noticed that they spend a lot of time at the mailbox waiting for mail. And I've seen them sitting on the curb writing letters. What's that about?"

I again offered an explanation. The missionaries weren't allowed to call home except on special occasions and so they would send letters and receive letters from their friends and family. This seemed to satisfy her curiosity for a few moments. She continued cutting my hair until another question came bubbling up.

"Where are they all day long? They'll leave every morning and come back every afternoon and then leave again a couple hours later and then come back again every night. What are they doing?"

More good questions. I offered the usual answers about missionary work and service and I talked about the local church membership and how the missionaries also spent a lot of time with them. The questions kept coming.

"Why on earth does one of them always stand behind the car when the other is backing up?" Another explanation. "Who's Brigham Young?" Another explanation. "Are they all from Utah?" Another explanation.

"Do all Mormons do missions?" She asked.

"No, but most of the men do. It's sort of expected of them, but it's ultimately their choice."

"Tyler, did you serve a mission?"

This is a slightly sensitive topic for me, but I was very happy to offer an answer to her question. "No, I did not. I didn't feel like doing it at the time and so I probably wouldn't have really had my heart in it if I went. All my brothers have served missions, though, and if I have the chance again, Carmen and I will probably serve a mission together."

Finally she seemed to get past the more curious points of the missionaries and presented me with a question that I believed was her real concern.

"Tyler, are they ever going to knock on my door?"

Ah. She wanted to know if these two very strange, but very nice young men from upstairs who were always about their curious work were ever going to try to proselyte to her.

"Would you like them to?" I asked.

"Well, no, I don't think so. I mean, I like learning about religion. I'm always learning more about my own." She laughed, a little embarrassed. "But if they're here to talk to people about your religion, why haven't they knocked on my door?"

A good question, with many possible answers. I hesitated for just a moment before offering my thoughts. "Well, Allison, they may have already knocked on your door and you just weren't home to answer it. Have they ever tried talking to you as you've crossed paths outside the apartment?"

"Well, yes, but only once. I was coming home from my church and they were on their way out to go somewhere and they asked me if I would like a copy of the... Bible I think, but I told them I already had a copy." She made a motion like she was holding up a copy of some invisible book and she gave it a little wave. And then her brow furrowed. "You guys do believe in the Bible, right?"

"Oh absolutely. We read and study it all the time. But what they were probably trying to give you was a copy of a book called the Book of Mormon, which is a very important book that proves the Bible is true."

"Oh." Her expression became thoughtful as she continued to trim the excess hair hanging over my ears.

A few moments went by without anything said between us. She styled my hair, checked and rechecked lengths, cut more hair, re-wetted my hair and cut again. She was almost done with the haircut when I decided to make a final suggestion to her.

"Why don't you try talking to them? It would be on your terms and they'll be happy to tell you everything about themselves. They love getting to talk to new people."

"Will they try to talk to me about Mormonism?"

"Yes, but only if you want them to. If you don't, the worst that will happen is they'll just keep on being the best neighbors you've ever had." She laughed a little at this. She did think that they'd been really good neighbors. Way better than the lady with the annoying dog from one of the previous places she'd lived.

"I'll think about it." That was all I would have asked for.

I'll be interested to see what happens to Allison over the next three weeks. For the first time in the three years I've been getting my hair cut there, I'll be able to display my amazing talent for remembering details and we'll pick up where we left off in what's going on Allison's life.

My haircut looks great, by the way.