When I was eleven and my sister, Kathy, was nine, we both received orthodontic work every other Saturday morning in downtown Houston.
We lived in Conroe, a community about 40 miles north of Houston. My father was one of Conroe’s 12 general practitioners, and Conroe had no medical specialists. The closest specialists were in Houston.
On the scheduled Saturdays, one of our parents delivered us to the Conroe bus station and we rode the Continental Trailways bus to downtown Houston, disembarked, and then walked seven blocks to a professional building to see the orthodontist.
Depending on the bus schedule, the appointment times, and the length of the appointments, we might immediately catch the next bus back to Conroe after our appointments or require killing time before the next available bus. Therefore, we often spent this variable wait time by sitting in the bus terminal, visiting Parker Music Store (a few blocks away), or eating a hamburger in the Walgreen’s Drug Store located across from the bus station.
One day when we were eating our hamburgers in Walgreen’s, we sat in one of the store’s two booths. The other booth was immediately behind Kathy (who sat facing me) and occupied by two middle-aged women who garnered no attention from me.
I launched into blathering on about the exciting activities I was looking forward to once we arrived back in Conroe. Kathy sternly shushed me. I was surprised and could not fathom why she did this. Perhaps, she just was not interested in my daily pursuits.
After about two minutes of us both sitting there in silence, I resumed talking about what was important to me. Before I could finish my first sentence, Kathy shushed me again with a look of disapproval and impatience. I obeyed and did not dare to speak again until she signaled her permission.
I had no idea what this was about. Were we in danger? Why did we have to act as if we were spies or criminals on the lam? What required complete silence? Was the store being robbed and Kathy wanted to escape detection by the bad guys. After all, Houston was a dangerous city.
After a short time, the two women arose from their seats, paid their bills at the front counter, and left the building. Once they were gone, Kathy leaned forward and—with enormous eyes—excitedly revealed several shocking facts:
Kathy: “Ken!”
Ken: “What’s going on?”
Kathy: “I was eavesdropping on those two women sitting behind me.”
Ken: “Yeah? What were they talking about?”
Kathy: “Ken, they were reeaaallly angry.
Ken: “What were they angry about?”
Kathy: “Oh,… they were going on and on about the Playboy Magazine over there in the store’s magazine stand and how it was dirty and immoral and nasty and how it exploits women.”
[After barely absorbing Kathy’s revelation that she was picking up on a private, juicy conversation with the adults, I was now trying to get the contextual suggestion of exploits. I was not acquainted with the meaning of this word. Obviously, Kathy knew how to use it.]
Ken: “Sure…”
Kathy: “But Ken…”
Ken: “What?”
Kathy: “Those women are wrong!”
[By this time, I am completely off balance. Kathy has jolted me three times in less than a minute. First, she admits to eavesdropping. Then she uses a word I’m scrambling to understand. Now she says these women are wrong (actually incorrect and wrong) about an assertion that the whole world knows to be true.]
Ken: “In what way are the women wrong?”
Kathy: “Playboy Magazine DOES NOT exploit women.”
Ken: “Really?”
Kathy: “No! Playboy Magazine exploits MEN with women.”
True.
Wise beyond her years… This story makes me want to visit Walgreens for a burger and a magazine 🤪.