My Son, Marco

First, I'm gonna say that since I discovered the button that tells me what keywords bring people to the site by the day/week/month/year, I am amazed to discover how many people ask about magic mushrooms in India on the net. I mean, I wrote a very funny story about that topic  years ago and posted it here. But I had no idea until pretty recently that maybe four in ten people coming to my blog have used some variance of that phrase to find me.
    They'll punch in Magic shrooms, India; psilocybin, India; Cubensis, India; shrooms in Kodaikanal and 50 other variations and subsequently see my story pop up on google and wind up at the site.
    That's weird because there are not that many people going to India looking for magic mushrooms, I wouldn't think. I mean I get hit 10 times daily from those google queries. And if I get hit 10 times, maybe people punched those phrases 1,000 times!
    BUTTTTTTT.......if you think that strange, how about the number of hits I get a day from people using keywords: naked swim meets; swim meet naked; no trunk swim meets; Catholic school naked boys swimming and dozens and dozens of variations of that? I am not kidding. I wrote a funny piece on the blog called Swim Team 101, about my utterly and famously failed attempt to learn how to swim by joining the swim team as a supposed non-participant in swim meets in high school and while attending my first swim meet discovered that one of the teams was naked. AND PUBICALY SHAVED. And that was another catholic school, like mine. You can read it for yourselves. I still wonder who did the damned shaving for those boys. I found it sort of gross and unbelievable at the time. Funny story.
    But who in the hell are the more than 2,000 people who have punched keywords about naked boys swimming that eventually directed them to my blog story in the last five years? Are there that many perverts out there or are they just people who hit the keyboard by accident? All former catholic school kids in the late 1960s who want verification that they were at such a meet because their families now say they must have imagined or fantasized it? I don't know. But it gives me the freaking heebie-jeebies, I'll tell you that.
    Okay, glad to get done with that information part of the piece here.
    Now, why I'm really writing. I'm sad. I'm sad because Chepa's boyfriend is moving here in a week or so. I'm happy for his babies, Sierra and Alexa, and if Chepa wants that, then I'm happy for her. But for me it changes the game: I won't get to take Sierra to school much anymore; they won't show up for dinner a couple of times a week. More: It just changes the family in a big way. Having him show up once a month or two for a few days is very different than him living here.
   So I was feeling glum at that news, despite knowing it was coming some day, and that my job has been to love those baby girls as hard as I could even knowing I would have to give them up to their dad and that that's the best thing for them. Still. I was glum. And I was in post-cover story-parnum to boot. Plus, I've been trying to get some friendly spirits to help fix some people up who need real help and that always takes it out of me.
   Plus, Chepa picked up Madeleina yesterday from school and did it again today--perfectly fine cause she's the mom--but with the rest of it, well, I was double glum and thinking how odd that 10-15 people a week who never met me, don't know me, get in touch for one reason or another. To help them with a trip to Peru they're planning, even though it will not coincide with one of mine. Or someone with a sick dad who wants me to pray for him. Or people who think the justice system is doing them wrong and want me to help.
   All those people, in desperate straits, call or write me. Hell, people even look up "naked swim meets" to find me. And here my family lives down the street and I don't hardly get to see them. I guess it's easier to have faith in me if you don't actually know me.
   SO I was feeling that way and went out to buy some food and gas and smokes and my four minis of whiskey and when I came home, I was surprised to find my son Marco's car in the driveway. As I got out with the groceries he stood behind me. I turned into him and he put his arms around me.
   "Dad, did you ever lose faith in us, Italo and me?"
   I held him tightly. "Not a chance. Not for one second."
   "Thanks, dad. That's what I needed to know," he said.
   "What's wrong?"
   "Nothing. Something. Just today someone reminded me of something you taught me--an important lesson--that I would never do and this person did it and I'm fine. I just wanted to check if you really believed in Italo and me."
    "Always. From the minute I met you."
    "Thanks, dad. I gotta go."
     "Call if you want to explain any of this."
     "I will. Thanks for being my dad."
     "I love you. You know that. Drive safely."
     And then he was gone. I hope he's okay. I mean, I know he is, I just hope whatever happened didn't break his heart too much.
      And I've been writing this with tears coming down my face since he left. Guess they just needed an excuse to come out.