My mom and dad are very devout Roman Catholics, so growing up in our house you pretty much had to deal with confessions, first communions, kneeling, wearing itchy clothing on Sunday and vying for a spot to become an altar boy, among other things.
Of great importance, also, was the church doctrine of keeping the sexual curiosity of the younger parishioners thoroughly bottled up and locked away because any interest in such things would more than likely lead to a life of sin and an eternity in hell.
Escaping from that religion was like unloading a monkey off my back.
With that in mind, here’s how my spirit guides demonstrated their sense of humor to me.
This summer in Atlanta was brutal, with temperatures and humidity levels in the mid to upper 90’s on many days.
Working outside as I do in these conditions can cause certain ailments of the skin to crop up and where these rashes develop can be in the most unwelcome of places.
After suffering for a few days with a nasty discomfort well established in my crotch, I felt it was time to do some research in an effort to diagnose myself. A simple case of prickly heat, this was not.
So I sat down with my iPad, pulled up Google and did an online search for symptoms such as mine.
Google returned thousands of hits. I clicked on one that seemed legitimate and informative and instead of seeing a dermatology directory or a physician’s reference, I was looking at a page from a website for Catholic boys.
“You are infected with tinea cruris, more commonly known as jock itch, which is an indication of an inattention to cleanliness, harboring unsavory visions of young girls and touching your own sexual organs much more than necessary.”
All I could do was start laughing. Loudly.