Fifi and Trixiebelle

My mom grew up in a Christian Home where the Facts Of Life were not discussed. It was interesting hearing her talk about her chosen field--Public Health-- which, alas, often required some knowledge of the, um, well, gamier side of life.


While I was growing up, I often heard about the Lab. Mom and Dad received their graduate degrees in and moved to Florida in the early 50s. Mom worked for the State of Florida Department of Public Health and spent her days hunched over a microscope in Jacksonville, Florida, in an unairconditioned lab, examining slides.


No wonder she didn't mind quitting her job on doctor's orders to "relax" in 1957 after trying unsuccessfully to conceive. Yes, it's true. She really did quit her job on doctor's orders to relax.


Anyway.


"We'd get these slides in from the Public Health clinic to analyze," she began. "They'd have names on them like 'Fifi' and 'Trixiebelle' and I'd say, "Who would name their daughters that?" and my colleagues would reply, "Ruth, they're prostitutes."


That was about as detailed as the story got.


Last fall I told her that I was going to write about Fifi and Trixiebelle.


"Oh my friends used to laugh at me," she reminisced. "They couldn't believe that I didn't know where those slides came from."


Something distracted me and I forgot about it until Easter dinner.


"So Mom," I began. "What do you mean you didn't know where those slides came from?"


"You know," Mom replied, vaguely waving her hands around her mouth.


"No, I really don't," I replied earnestly.


"My friends at the lab teased me because I didn't know the slides were from oral swabs," she answered. From....you know....."


"Oral sex?" I replied, laughing.


"I suppose," she replied, blushing.


"You had a master's degree from the University of North Carolina School Of Public Health and you didn't know about oral transmission of venereal dise..." I snickered.


"Children!," interrupted my mom. "It's time for Easter dinner!"