(Texto extraído de Bonnie Bullough, R.N., Ph.D., Vern Bullough, R.N., Ph.D., Marilyn A. Fithian, Ph.D., William E. Hartman, Ph.D., and Randy Sue Klein, Ph.D., “How I Got Into Sex“, p. 290-296, Prometheus Books, 1997.)
Pioneer Researcher in Childhood Sexuality
Floyd M. Martinson, Ph.D.
Floyd M. Martinson is a pioneer in the study of childhood sexuality. A rural sociologist, he has taught at Gustavus Adolphus College in Minnesota for over fifty years.
I WAS BORN on November 11, 1916, and spent my childhood and adolescence on a farm in western Minnesota. I played alone much of the time, accompanied only by my dog. There were not many friends my age on neighboring farms. My closest friend didn’t have much time for play; he was expected to work all the time.
I attended Buffalo Lake open-country school, with eight grades and one teacher to teach all of them. I got to miss one class because two classes were combined to ease the teacher’s load. I always wonder what I missed that year.
When it came time to go to high school, there was a decision to be made. Kerkhoven High School was fifteen miles away, and there were no schoolbuses. Would I go to high school or would I stay home and help on the farm? I wanted to go, but it wasn’t my decision to make. These were difficult times on the farm–crops were affected by scorching heat; hot, dry winds; and lack of rainfall. It was also the time of the Great Depression, coupled with the severe drought. I remember the air was filled with dry-as-dust topsoil blowing across the fields, depositing itself like snow drifts along field fences. Great balls of tumbleweeds rolled across the dry, crusty bottom of what had been Buffalo Lake. I remember a day when we were cutting our sparse crops. Dad was riding the tractor, the lugs kicked up clouds of dust, and I was riding the binder, sweat and dust covering me. Grasshoppers, attracted by the salt and sweat, sat on my back and ate holes in my shirt. It was a time that left a lasting impression on a teenager.
The decision was made that I would go to high school. We rented a room (board and room, $15 a month), then began a four-year routine of someone taking me to town on Sunday afternoon and picking me up again on Friday afternoon. I felt lucky, relieved, and scared to be going to high school.
The high school years proved to be pleasant ones. Kerkhoven High was a small school in a small town, giving me a chance to play basketball (once I learned how to dribble), to pitch for the high school kitten ball team, to sing in a male quartet, to be in a couple of school operettas and a couple of class plays, and to spend exciting nights hanging out with friends.
Graduation came as a crushing blow: no more bright lights, no more hanging out with friends, no more walking a favorite girl home. It was back to the farm for me.
The rural economy was still bad, and there was no chance of going to college. I spent the next four years on the farm, all the time dreaming of far-off places and other things to do. I finally obtained a job with the Agricultural Adjustment Administration measuring the compliance of farmers on a government crop program. For that I needed transportation. My father took me to town; we bought a large, used Buick sedan for twenty-five dollars. The dealer threw in enough gas to drive the car home.
Since I’m writing about how I got into the field of sexuality, I might digress and talk about my own sex education in childhood and adolescence. I have heard that farm boys learn all they need to know by watching the farm animals. That would be a pretty crude education in human lovemaking! There were the usual things talked about by the older students in elementary school during recess, the “dirty” stories that farmhands told, and so on. But so far as formal education–I remember finding a book under my pillow which I suspect was placed there by my mother. That was the only “formal” education that I got in elementary school, high school, college, or graduate school.
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