When we lived on the Thomas Long Lease I had a friend, Jimmy Cargill, whose family, unbelievably, was even poorer than mine.  Jimmy and I took turns riding my tireless, pedal-less bike until we both learned to stay on it as long as we wanted to.  But Jimmy’s biggest contribution to my life was his role as my first sex-education teacher.

We had a tall old oak tree in our front yard that was just right for climbing.  One day Jimmy and I for lack of anything better to do climbed it.  While sitting on a limb high above the ground, with my brother Gene and his friend Teddy Moore sitting below us, Jimmy told me a dirty joke.  The first one I had ever heard.  It was a raunchy, completely unfunny tale about a young boy whose last name was the "F" word preceding the word "faster." The punch line, a play on words using that unlikely last name, raised a question in my mind that remained unanswered for a long time.  I had no idea what the  word was describing.  Jimmy seemed to; but my masculine pride kept me from asking him to explain the joke.