Yeah, I grew up with very hospitable parents and our home was always full of people, an informal respite for church friends.
Coming home from school on a cool afternoon and opening the front door was like walking into a small-town coffee shop, you simply never knew who would be there.
High school was the same.
Half the church youth group was hanging out upstairs, or a large group of us was trying to finish our chemistry homework.
But a bunch of strangers ringing your doorbell looking for your famous husband sounds like a horrible way to live.
The sad part is how much society has changed since then.
At least people had enough respect and morals that security wasn’t a real concern.
Today they would have to live in a compound with armed security.
Every couple of weeks someone—the previously mentioned folk singers, as well as addicts, preachers, or the occasional sex kitten—would drive up the long road to the house, usually late at night, usually drunk, looking for Johnny Cash. “He’s not here!” my mother would shout, slamming the door on them. We liked driving people away. We had a series of live-in house-keepers, one of whom quit the second day on the job because dinner had to be served at nine p.m. the night before due to unexpected guests.