Condums & Puberty - God Help Me!

Ever have one of those days to where without any warning whatsoever, you see something and all of a sudden flash backs from years ago start rushing through your brain?  Well, that's what happened to me yesterday when my wife and I were in Costco getting some prescriptions filled. 

I was standing with my wife at the pick-up window and while she was talking with the pharmacist, I noticed stacked against the wall boxes and boxes of Trojan Condoms....40 to a box....and this is when my brain switched from current-to-history.  I got to thinking about all those public restrooms in truck stops, gas stations, choke and puke cafes, movie theaters and bars I had been in over the years that had a metal box with a round knob attached securely to the wall.  Inside these boxes were condoms of various sizes, colors and erotic descriptions for marketing purposes and they only cost 75-cents.  I didn't take notice of how much the Trojan's were at Costco, but I thought to myself "40 condoms to a box...7 days in a week...365 days in a year...52 weeks in a year...12 months in a year.  Alrighty then.  Depending on the age and testosterone level of the guy, or the girl, this person is either going to need more than one box or they've got enough for three and half years....give or take a week either side."

The first time I had actually held a condom in my hand was in the summer of 1965 while visiting my grandparents in a small town in the panhandle of Texas and I was 14 years old.  Like I said, I had seen those condom machines multiple times, but never had any reason to spend 75-cents on something I had no use for at that time in my life.  One evening while I was working in my grandparents cafe, a very good friend of mine told me that he had bought "2 rubbers" in the gas station on the other side of the highway.  I was so ignorant about sex at that stage of my life, that if stupidity were dirt I would have enough to cover about an acre.  My God, I was still trying to figure out where all those damned pimples came from on my face. Anyway, my friend gave me one of the rubbers and told me to put it in my wallet "just in case" I might need it later...wink, wink of the eye.

As the summer started coming to a close and school starting in a couple of weeks, my two brothers and I had to return to Colorado where my mother and stepfather lived.  Our family lived in what was called at the time a single-wide trailer and naturally, we lived in a trailer court that was about five miles from town.  While my brothers and I were in Texas that summer, my parents built an enlarged bedroom edition on to our trailer so that my brothers and I could stop having to sleep on the living room couch.  Just a few days before school started back, some friends and I were outside on one of those rare days the sun was actually out longer than a few minutes and the temperatures were very pleasant.

All of a sudden, my Cherokee Indian mother swung open the door of the bedroom extension so had it slammed against the trailer house and stood on the porch with both hands on her hips resembling a mythic creature that had just been shot from the bowels of the earth.  In a loud, stern voice that made little animals seek shelter, she said "Jimmie Dewayne, where did you get this?"  I knew instantly that I was in deep shit, because my mother never, ever called me using my full first and middle names in the same sentence unless she was preparing to do battle.  Like an idiot I said "What? Mother, I don't see anything."  "I'm NOT stupid Jim!  I want to know what you're doing with this damn rubber in your wallet and where you got it from" she replied while holding the condom up in the air for all to see.  I was always taught to tell adults the truth.  Because they were eventually going to find out what happened and God have mercy on your soul if they found you had lied, your ass would be theirs.  I stated "I bought it in Texas this summer" and she asked, "And just pray tell what exactly did you plan on doing with it?"  Come on Jim...think of something quick dammit!  "I was going to sell it" I said.  Oh, baby, that was a really stupid move on my part!  Flames shot from the center of her eyes, teeth clinched tighter than a camels butt in a sand storm and in a booming voice loud enough for everyone between Colorado and Florida to hear, she yelled "SELL!  You're selling rubbers?  What are you gonna sell next?  Dope? Whores? Guns to crooks and thieves?  Wait until Bob gets home from work tonight...you've not heard the end of this mister."  My, didn't that go well?  Mother and son having an adult(??) conversation in public and working out their issues.  Right!  What few friends I have in Colorado will know my mother has more issues than Vogue magazine.  Oh well, might as well get ready for an ass whoopin' tonight.

Approximately 14 months later, my mother and I had to go to Sayer-McKee drugstore to get her prescriptions while my two brothers and stepfather were getting haircuts down the street from us.  By now I'm 15 years old and will turn 16 in just a few months.  While mother is at the back waiting her turn to talk with the pharmacist, I was wondering around the store like a lost soul with my hands in my pockets looking for anything to entertain me while being bored out of my mind.  As  I rounded the aisle where the vitamins, Epson salts and bandages were stocked, I saw out of the corner of my eye a very intriguing display with shiny packets in various colors sitting on a shelf just a few feet from the cashier.  Being the inquisitive sort that I am, I nonchalantly strolled over to this unique display of wares and discovered they were condoms, AND they were right next to the Playboy magazines!  Oh baby!  I finally hit the jackpot!  But wait a minute, how in the world am I going to buy the magazine and the condoms without getting caught by my mother?  I wasn't concerned about her finding out I had bought a Playboy, because my stepfather had a yearly subscription and one came in the mail at the beginning of every month.  But the condoms.  Jesus, after the previous summer fiasco in front of all my friends, mother would have a stroke and I would be shipped off to military school for sure. And besides, the lady running the cash register is on my parents bowling team and she would rat me out in a heart beat.

Before making any juvenile decisions about my possible purchase, I thought to myself "I'm a Junior in high school, I have no car, I live 5 miles outside of town, I work as a bag boy at Safeway's and my parents have to drive me to and from work, I don't have a girlfriend or even a remote possibility of getting one in the near future.  So, why do I need to suffer the wrath of King Kong and buy a packet of condoms that she is going to find sooner or later?"  I can't recall the first time I purchased a packet of condoms, but it was certainly many years later in my adult life while I was in the Navy and stationed overseas.  It just wasn't worth the hassle of having to deal with my Indian mother over the issue, God rest her soul.