I Meet my New Friend, Puberty

I want to share a treasured memory.

But you need some background.

In my parents' house, we did not talk about feelings and certainly not sex. However, mom and pop were enthusiastic practitioners of the bedroom arts. They had nine children. But discussing feelings and sex with their kids always involved a ton of guilt. Nuns augmented that guilt.

Despite all that, biology is what biology is. When I hit twelve, Puberty found me and said, "Hey, pal, what's up? My name is Gus."

It was an innocent time before the Internet, and my new friend, Gus, demanded that I research a few things.

So, I began my quest for a deeper understanding of this new world. I found sources for the journey.

For example, the Sears Catalog. Before Gus introduced himself, I focused on the toys and sports equipment pages. Then, the women's underwear section with young ladies in modest white bras and panties came on my radar.

Gus said, "Whoa, buddy, stop right here. Stay a while."

My biggest challenge was finding a place to study the female form in a puny house with eleven people.

Recently, I discussed the Sears Catalog with my friend, Alex. He once tried convincing a classmate that you could use a pencil eraser to disrobe the Sears models. Did Alex try that himself? Well, he did think about it anyhow.

One afternoon, my friend Brian showed me National Geographic. My parents did not subscribe, but Brian's family had many back issues. He pointed out the better volumes.

Again, Gus spoke up. He said, "You always wanted to know more about Aboriginal living conditions. Now's your chance."

I struggled to find time alone in Brian's house to complete my studies.

In middle school, we went on field trips to Chicago museums. In the Field Museum basement were dioramas of Stone Age families living their Stone Age lives. They hadn't invented underwear yet, and I didn't complain. The north entrance of the Museum of Science and Industry had four columns on the east and west sides of the doors. These columns were women dressed as Roman Vestal Virgins. I thought the second one from the left on the east side was hot.

I watched the movie Trapeze on WGN one lazy winter Sunday afternoon. The film was about The Titos, a circus trapeze act. Tony Curtis, Burt Lancaster, and Gina Lollobrigida were the actors. The United Artists costume department couldn't find a shirt that fit Ms. Lollobrigida. They were all two sizes too small. But she wore them well, so I gave it two thumbs up.

I have a conscience named Larry. Back then, he tried his best to keep me on the right side of things. Larry constantly duked it out with Gus, but Larry was like the Chicago White Sox. The pope is a fan, but the Sox and Larry often lost.

Finally, here's that treasured memory.

The Bergs lived in the house just south of ours. Mr. Berg had a famous niece named Ann Margaret. She was Elvis's co-star in the classic film Viva Las Vegas and the lead in the musical Bye Bye Birdie. In 1966, she starred in a movie called The Swinger. One reviewer wrote, "For bad movie lovers, this will be heaven…" Ms. Margret was included in a Flintstone episode under the name "Ann Margrock." You can look it up. Despite playing some horrible roles, Ms. Margret was a talented singer, dancer, and actor. It helped that she was a drop-dead gorgeous redhead.

My memory involves Ann Margaret's cousin, the Bergs' oldest daughter. She bore a striking, amazing, and wonderful resemblance to her famous relative. She was home from college, and on a summer day in 1968, she decided to wash her car in the driveway while wearing a two-piece bathing suit. That day, I was riding my bike to the beach when I glanced to my left, and there was nirvana.

Gus screamed, "STOP!"

Larry said, "No. Keep going. What would Sister Immaculata say?"

Gus said, “Immaculata won’t know.”

Gus and Larry compromised. I didn't stop and stare, but I did turn around several times. Who wouldn't? I kept both hands on the handlebars. But this was one fine piece of distracted biking.

It was all innocent curiosity. Women were a mystery to this guilt-ridden adolescent, and almost sixty years later, they still are.

I am blessed that I met my buddy, Gus, before the Internet. Larry could never have handled the workload.