Youngest son, Kenny, stopped by the house a couple days ago. We chatted a bit during which time I learned that he is leaving for El Salvador for a surfing trip with about three or four of his buddies this Saturday morning.
That's not too unusual. He's gone on world surfing trips to Bali, Indonesia, Fiji, Peru, Costa Rica, Puerto Rico . . Mexico . . . perhaps other places even I don't know about.
"Are you concerned about any shakedowns by Customs and Immigration upon your return? Looking for drugs and all?"
"El Salvador isn't known for a drug problem, dad; they're more known for a civil war that went on for years . . . the war is over but there are still heavily armed gangs roaming around. But we're going to a really safe and secure surf camp. We went there once before but this one is even more safe and secure and is further north."
"You do realize that your dear old dad and mom are not terribly comforted by this news, don't you? A country with armed thugs wandering around?"
"Ah, we'll be okay, dad. Things have quieted down. There was a time, a girl I met down there told me she had seen people executed while she was on her way to school."
"How comforting for mom and I to know," I mumbled.
He stopped by again this morning to borrow some money for his trip. A check he was expecting on a big job he did did not arrive in time for him to cash it so he asked if I could loan him $700 till he got back and cashed the other check. I meekly complied.
He leaves at 1am tomorrow morning (Friday night/Saturday morning) from LAX. Gone for, I think, eight days. I told him his mother and I would not rest until he got back safely. We hugged and kissed each other and he was gone.
Funny how parents always worry about their 'babies,' even when they're 45 years old.
I have the 'yips' already.