As the youngest member of my family and with four older brothers, there were certain realities of life in the suburbs that were inescapable. I learned what boys like, from listening to sporting events on the radio, to checking out each year's new cars, to perusing (usually alone) any copy of Playboy that you could lay your hands on. My father was not the sort of guy to find Playboy interesting (at least I never found any thing racy when I poked around their room- looking at the effects of the grown-ups in my life). No, there had to have been a more illicit source that allowed this distinct periodical to enter our house (only to be hidden away under a bed or in a drawer). My mother was not particularly nosy, so you would not be found out. She was too busy reading Trollope, or Proust, or Dickens or a pile of mystery novels to pay us a lot of attention. We five kids mostly did the right thing and didn't require all that much minding as I recall.
I did find the stash of Playboys and aside from the very provocative photos of some very lovely ladies wearing little to no clothes, I was fascinated by the Playboy Adviser who answered readers' intimate questions with a lot of information shared in a frank and unembarrassed tone. My eyes were opened wide to what transpires between consenting adults and as a young teenager, I was completely amazed. So when I came upon a box of old Playboys at a tag sale I had to pick up a few for sentimental reasons. It took me back to a time of true innocence and boundless curiosity. Interesting times in a young girl's life to remember.