I was a cub scout and then a boy scout for several years. In addition to all of the “be prepared” parts of scouting, scouts also had fund raising drives to raise money to offset the cost of all our activities. Paper drives were a great way to raise money while helping our neighbors clear out their basements and garages. We’d take our collection to the junk yard where we were paid a penny a pound. I was ten or eleven when a monumental drive occurred.
Our pack of twelve worked in teams of two to collect one man’s trash to make it our treasure. Mr. Martin drove a pickup truck that pulled a large trailer. Each team of two solicited a home owner for papers, hauled the papers to the truck/trailer and then moved on to the next house. It was a seamless plan until Bill and I discovered that we were the only team left on the street. Everyone, except Mr. Martin, had vanished.
We found the other ten boys in a nest that they had built in the trailer within the stacked papers. They were looking at pictures of naked ladies in a stash of Playboy magazines. That was the first time that I had seen such a wonder. (I am sure that those magazines never made it to the junk yard.)
The next time I saw a naked breast was later that summer when we made a trip to Al’s Muscle Beach. A lady was sitting on a dock and her husband pulled her into the lake. When he did, one of her breasts popped out. Holy, moly!!!
Those two events were the beginning of my personal sexual education.
About a year later I became ill and had to stay home from school for several days. My mom came into my room on one of those days, tossed a book on my bed, and said “You should read this while you’re home.” I don’t recall the name, but the content was information that many referenced as the birds and the bees. The content dealt with the differences between boys and girls. It was factual. There were no actual pictures but there were several drawings. The drawings looked nothing like the Playboy pictures.
I few days after the book tossing, and after I was completely cured and of sound mind, mom asked if I had any questions about the book.
I didn’t.
Later that same year I was playing with the guys from the neighborhood in the backyard of our next door neighbors, Chuck and Tom. My dad came into our backyard and called my name.
“Rob”
“Yea, dad.”
“I need you to come home for a few minutes.”
I walked home and Dad met me at the side door. We walked down into our basement where two chairs awaited our arrival.
“Have a seat. I need to talk to you about something.”
We both sat down. He spoke first.
“You know your cousin, Earleen?”
“Yes”
“You know what’s going on with her?”
“Yes, she’s pregnant.” (Earleen was in her late teens and unmarried.)
“Do you have any questions about that?”
“No.”
“Well if you ever do, just let me know.”
“Ok.”
There was a brief pause in the conversation.
“Can I go back to play with the guys?”
“Yes.”
And that was it. My dad and I had “the talk”.
When Ruth and I became parents, we had our own talk. We decided, early on, that we would always be willing to answer any question about sex that our children asked in an open and honest manner. (I never asked my parents anything, but I think that they would have been open and honest too.) We also decided that we would be factual with all of the terms that we used. A penis was not a pee pee, it was a penis. A vagina, was not er, ah, …. , it was a vagina.
When David, our oldest, became inquisitive Ruth purchased the book “Where Did I Come From?” The book helped us answer questions and be direct, truthful and informative. I expect that it became the “sex talk bible” for many young parents. I know that even I found it more interesting than the one that my mother had provided twenty years prior.
About an hour after sharing the book with David, he pulled it off the book shelf to share with his two year younger sister, Elizabeth. They were able to delay Michael’s instruction by a few months by locking him another part of the house while they took turns reading passages to each other. David has always been a voracious reader, and I believe that this book may have been the beginning of his thirst for knowledge.
Later, when Michael joined the conversation he was able to gain insight not only from his older brother (three years, three months) and his older sister (sixteen months) but many of David’s ill informed male friends. I think that boys make up things to tell each other just so they’ll sound cool and well informed. I know I did.
Even when the conversations got tough, Ruth and I carried on as best we could. We never lied, or hid the truth, when talking about sex and its implications. By the time Michael started school, Ruth had returned to her teaching career. She taught, among other things, sex ed. Her lesson plans, supporting handouts, props, and pictures provided insight and conversation starters for several years.
Inquiring minds wanted to know.