©2011, 2015 AmericanValuesRestored
A Lesson in the little Baby Jesus
and what a girl can do a boy cannot.
Rosie Ann True and I were playing alone in the playroom in the attic on the fourth floor. She set down her puppet, and stepped out from behind the stage. “How old are you?” she asked.
“Seven and three quarters” I said.
“I am six and a half” she said, dancing over to me.
It was 1963, and I lived in Apartment 3 of 6, in a long building in Ludwigsburg, a suburb of Stuttgart, Germany. That rainy afternoon, the youngest of six Catholic girls, Rosie Ann True, and I, were alone in the attic. I, raised without any specific religious or spiritual training, was open to learning. Rosie Ann True was going to give me religious instruction, followed by my first lesson in sex education.
I was sitting Indian style on the parquet floor, as Rosie talked about Jesus. I listened dumbfounded, no idea who, or what, she was talking about.
“You mean you’ve never heard about the little baby Jesus?” she asked.
“No.” I wondered “who is the little baby Jesus?”
“Long ago there was a bright star over Bethlehem, and three wise men on camels rode across a big desert to worship Him.”
“Who?”
“The prince.”
“What prince?”
“The little baby Jesus, but He is not a prince of this world. The wise men brought him incense, myhrr, and frankincense, and the baby Jesus grew up to be the Light of the world.”
Puzzled, I took in this wealth of information. I’ve never heard any of this, I thought, but it sounds like a good story.
Rosie rose to her feet, and started unbuttoning her dress. Tying two lessons together, she reached into her pocket. “You want to see what I can do with a string?” she asked.
Again, I had no idea what she was talking about, but that didn’t matter, Rosie knew. She slipped out of her dress, then her panties. Captivated, I watched, as she rolled the string into a ball, and slipped it in a hole between her legs. Then she twirled, danced circles around me, and easing the string out of the hole, held it up like the thread of a spider’s web.
That’s fascinating. How did she do that? I wondered. “Why can’t I do that?”
Rosie giggled. “You have to be a girl” she said “now you take off your Lederhosen”.
I crossed my legs. “I can’t take off my pants.”
“Okay. Show me your pipi then.”
I was determined to hold onto whatever was holding me back from participating in this game the entertainer, la danceuse. “I can’t do that either” I said, crossing my legs.
By now Rosie was hot and bothered. “Let me touch you between the legs” she said, coaxing me.
“I can’t let you do that either.”
She begged. “I just want to touch. Please.”
I had heard please was the magic word, and I uncrossed my legs. “I guess I can let you do that” I said. She laid her hand on my coccyx, as I wondered what all the mystery was about.
Weeks before my eighth birthday that rainy afternoon in 1963, I received my first religious training balanced by a lesson in sex education. In one of the most memorable days of my life, Rosie Ann True opened my mind, my heart, my legs, and her vagina.
I imagine Rosie Ann today, still a trooper for Christ. More than likely, she is no longer True; the petite brunette would be now a Rose. Whatever path Rose followed behind her six older Catholic sisters, I find comfort in the belief her life has been an Ambassadorship for Christ, dancing and entertaining along the way. That is my truth about Rosie Ann True.
I should have realized then learning about Jesus Christ from a six year old girl should have prepared me for what was to come in the endless Mayer family war.
©2015 Alan John Mayer
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