April 21, 2005
ConDominus
The news says Rome still has a thing about condoms, and apparently, there’s no sign of change.
I understand. When I was a grade school kid, I had a thing about them, too. Our world was maybe more macho then, but we didn’t even know how to spell condom, let alone know what they looked like. We could imagine, though, from the talk of the braggarts who always carried one in their wallet. You could tell by the indentation. They kept one there, they said, just in case.
Now, condoms are on full display in the drug stores, out for all to see — the creative designs, the colors, the special purposes, and, of course, the suggestive names. Back then, they were nowhere to be seen, one had to ask a pharmacist, and few of us were ever brave enough to do that. Whenever we did get up the nerve, there’d be a woman pharmacist on duty, and she’d suddenly look just like our mom.
All that was back when the risk of disease was much less a concern than the awesome fear of having babies. “Pregnant” was a double four-letter word said only in a hushed voice, and it served even more as a preventive.
Of course, all that’s changed with The Pill. Changed, that is, except for the Vatican. It’s not that anybody over there seems all that shy about condoms, rather are they so obsessed about birth control that the possibility of death control apparently escapes them altogether.
But I guess I still have a thing about the subject. Whenever I pick up a prescription at my pharmacy, I quickly pass by the prophylactic display, although I’d lot rather stop and gawk. (Okay, you say, so how did I know about the displays?) Whatever, I don’t plan to go there, so ConDominus, which is to say, the Lord be with you (var).