I was actually at my friend's house. Since he's out of town a lot, I stop in to check the chlorine in his pool, get his mail, etc. The doorbell rang. You guessed it.
It's almost amazing how fast the mind can put it all together. The door wasn't even fully open before I felt the JW vibe. Two older men--almost certainly elders--one a rather heavyset, sixty-ish white guy with mostly gray hair, the other a light-skinned African-American man wearing the requisite cap. (Can anyone tell me why this guy was wearing the same type of cap the JWs wear in Michigan--when we're in the desert of Arizona? Was there truly any need for such a big, warm cap?)
I saw the Memorial tract in the white guy's hand. Someone had already put one in my door last week. I said the following, in a perfectly calm and friendly manner...
"Oh, you're inviting people to the Memorial. Yes, I'm part of a family that's been Jehovah's Witnesses for four generations and more than sixty years. I myself was an elder for some time. I now regard it as a cult."
They skedaddled most promptly, wishing me a good day.