Cold Calling

I come from a long line of salesmen. My dad's father was a Dunlop tire salesman. My dad sold Tide detergent before he went to seminary, and won all kinds of top sales awards. Even my Granddaddy Moore majored and worked in business before he entered the ministry. And then, well, there are all those Baptist preachers in my family tree. Some might say that every sermon is a big sales pitch leading up to the "call" at the end. Closing the deal for Jesus.

But me, the most I ever sold was a few candy bars on the bus, raising money for the high school band. They don't call my professional experience "nonprofit management" for nothing. And here I am on my firstever major creative endeavor, faced with the challenge of cold-calling. Hardly what you think of when you picture the Bohemian artist lifestyle.

Big breath, here I go.

The first one on my list is Sam Oni. He's the one from Ghana who joined my grandfather's Macon, Georgia church in 1963 (more of the story). I know he lives in Atlanta and I'm going there next week. Think he'll talk to me?

Fingers on the keypad. I can do this. One ring, two, three--oh good, I'll get the answering machine. Quick, think of what to say. His beautiful, lilting accent the on the answering machine--yes, this must be the right number! "Hi, my name is Cindy McMahon, and my grandfather was Walter Moore, the pastor at Vineville Baptist Church in Macon, and--" >click< a person! "Ohhhhh," he says, after a pause, "you are an answer to prayer."

His response takes my breath away and with it, all of my words.

He was meditating, he explains to me, but when he heard my voice and message, he had to come to the phone. I'm coming to Atlanta? Of course he'd love to talk to me. Just phone again when I get to town, and we'll set it up. "You can't imagine," he tells me, "the joy I am feeling now."

And I'm sure he can't imagine the warmth that spreads all the way down to my fingertips. Funny when a call to a complete stranger provides an immediate reminder of the closely woven strands of humanity.

We are inexplicably inextricable.