When I was six, I was given cowboy boots for my birthday. I had a strong interest in cowboy boots, and in everything else cowboy. I admired the new boots greatly. Apparently one of the neighbor girls, Ginny Bailey, also admired them. So much so, in fact, that she seduced me into playing "house" with her in the Cornell family's playhouse, a playhouse no longer used for its original purpose, since the Cornell girls were now all young adults.
I don't know how it is now, but in those days without electronic devices, little boys usually played "war," or "bombs over Tokyo," or attached toy soldiers to handkerchief parachutes and tossed them into the air. Little girls, on the other hand, played with dolls or, especially if they could snag a boy to play it with them, played "house."
Now, playing "house" frequently tended to have sexual overtones. In fact, it was often similar to playing "doctor," which I believe I had also played, when "war" was not available.
Anyway, Ginny persuaded me to go into the disused playhouse with her, which was a very private place. Ginny laid back on some kind of bench or something, and, without further ado, pulled down her panties and showed me her still-unfurred little treasure. I was sure that all this was happening because she admired my cowboy boots. Then she said "cackle my duper."
I knew what Ginny meant by "duper," though I had never heard the word before, because she pointed to it. But I was flummoxed by "cackle." I thought it might be something like "tickle," but I was pretty sure that it must have something to do with my new cowboy boots.
I decided to wing it. Slowly and ceremoniously, I lifted my right foot, and gently placed the instep of my new boot on her duper.
Strangely, this seemed to satisfy her for the moment. At that point, I think I told Ginny that I had to go.
I think Ginny must have actually liked me, apart from the boots, because in succeeding years she asked, more than once, to dance with her. She always wanted to dance the "Virginia Reel," which had, no doubt, been named after her.
I have no idea whether Ginny is still on the planet. If she is, and happens to read this, I hope she gets a chuckle out of it. I have nothing but respect for her.
Text © 2019 by Donald Jacobson Traxler.
