Solicitors shatter serenity
When did our homes change from refuges to marketplaces? Solicitors stream to our doors offering an assortment of wares, from chocolate bars, sponge cake and sweet bread to Portuguese sausage and chili. They pitch magazine subscriptions, raffle tickets, a miracle cleaning product or a new-fangled vacuum cleaner. They disrupt yard work to sell us on their religion. They ask for money for nondescript, possibly nonexistent charities. They want to trim our trees, build rock walls or buy our car. Some of the bolder intruders, when getting no response to their banging on the front door, walk around the house, looking into windows to find someone to hear their spiel. As if anyone is going to hire a window peeper to do anything. And what is that ice-cream truck all about? That concept makes sense in the country, but when several stores within three-fourths of a mile sell ice cream, I fail to see the urgency. Still, the truck is less intrusive because even though the repetitive tune is annoying, at least no one knocks on the door.
Charlotte Phillips
cphillips@starbulletin.com