On the Radio (Donna Summer - 1979)

[This post begins a two-part story spotlighting the world's oldest profession and its impact on a suburban trophy husband, and his three children.]

PART I

From the backseat came the voice of my six-year-old daughter, "What's this song about?"

Holy prostitution, Batman!

Playing on the radio was "Roxanne," the 1979 hit by The Police, about a man who falls in love with a call girl.

Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light

Those days are over
You don't have to sell your body to the night
Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight
Walk the streets for money
You don't care if it's wrong or if it's right

Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light
Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light

Sure, sex acts for money is a perfectly reasonable topic of discussion for a six-and-a-half-year-old. Don't you think? I could have easily turned the radio station and given Jessie the standard "inappropriate for a six-year-old" response.  But no, having just read in Rolling Stone Magazine about Michelle Braun, "The Sex Queen of LA," and her "celebrity" escort service, I believed I had this one under control. So in an Eliot Spitzer minute of judgement, I tried explaining it to her.

(Now, don't worry) I used a twisted, G-rated, pay-for-friendship illustration. It was one of those explanations that half-way into it you have a Talking Heads, "Once In A Lifetime" moment and ask yourself,"Well, how did I get here?"  The rest of the explanation is spent just trying to get back to where you started; an attempt to explain away what you've already explained.

This is usually achieved by deliberately confusing the hell out of the unsuspecting child in a maze of gibberish -- the bigger the words, the better. The goal is by the end of the anti-explanation, the poor child is so utterly confused she can't remember what the question was; or if asked by an adult, cannot coherently articulate anything you've spewed.

(What's she talking about? Oh, I have no idea Auntie Tina. It sounds like some song about friendship. . .  I don't know maybe she's thinking of "You've Got a Friend," or "You're My Best Friend," or some other age appropriate song she learned in school. . .  Red light? Got me. Where in the world do kids get this stuff?)

Jessie was not shaken. "Is this based on a true story?" she asked.

"Nah, it's just a song. You know, like 'Mary Had a Little Lamb.' Sure, somewhere a lamb could have followed a girl named Mary to school, but it's not why the song was written."

Nodding her head Jessie said, "Yeah and if it did, I don't think the teacher would allow a sheep in the class."

"Exactly. Right. Good point.  You got it."

Jessie was silent, and "Roxanne" ended none too soon. Thank God the next song was the wholesome rock ditty, "I Love Rock N' Roll," by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts. A good ol' fashioned song about meeting someone at a bar, and taking that nameless someone home -- the all-American way, FREE of charge. I quickly turned the station. Sure, I didn't want another question, but more importantly, I hate the song.

Little did I know that Jessie's innocent question was a mere portend of the whore-id things to come in the days ahead.

To be continued . . .