This is such a delightful throw back to my youth, my own innocence. My parents never told me anything, as-if knowing about my body would cause me to discover all the pleasures that would lead to a life of sinful debauchery. Thank God for my best neighborhood friend Tess, two years my senior. Her parents were rumored to be communists. Her mom was a welder by trade, an artist by heart. She had hairy armpits and free swinging breasts. A studio upstairs with works on easels and strewn around the floor’s perimeter and unmade bed. There were cinderblocks supporting a red vellore couch, torn oriental rugs, dishes piled high by the sink. It was in this deliciously unstructured, uninhibited home that I got some of my best and most valuable education. Tess and I are still friends. We laugh a lot when we get together. It’s invaluable to have such a rich, meaningful history with someone.