DID HE SAY NAKED?!?

What could be more American than a Fourth of July weekend................ at a nudist camp?  After all, there was a parade, cookouts, volleyball, fireworks – even a skydiving demonstration.  No different than thousands of other holiday celebrations throughout the U.S.A. -just without clothing.  

My friend and housemate Bob asked if I could help him build a simple A-frame cabin at the nudist camp where he was a member.  I shared a house in Pittsburgh with him and a gay couple who had been in a monogamous relationship for a number of years.  Bob was a retired Psychology professor and a practicing nudist.  I remember a couple of awkward moments when I was entertaining guests in the living room and this 70 year-old man would walk, quite naked, down the carpeted stairs from his room to the kitchen with a casual and congenial “Hi.  I’m Bob.” 

The camp was in a rural area of south-eastern Ohio.  It was billed as a family-oriented nudist facility.  Entire working and middle-class families would either spend the summer there or come for the weekend or vacation.    The grounds were extensive, a semi-wooded complex complete with swimming pool, Jacuzzi, small grocery, recreation hall and, of course, a regulation volleyball court. Accommodations ranged from tents to Airstream trailers located on individual lots throughout the wooded area.

So, how do you do construction work in a nudist colony?  (Okay, I’ll get the joke out of the way quickly: You do it it VERY carefully!).  In this case, my basic equipment consisted of a good pair of sneakers and a strategically placed tool apron.  When I say “strategically” I am not referring to modesty.  A well-made canvas apron serves provides a necessary level of protection from unwelcome scratches and bruises as you carry wood and shingles up and down a ladder, wield a saw or hammer a nail.

I’ll admit that I was pretty damn uncomfortable on the first day.  That moment of taking off all of my clothes and walking down to the swimming pool or into the general store required a great deal of commitment and courage.  The first task was figuring out how to look at naked people of both sexes, all ages and of all shapes and sizes as they go about perfectly normal, everyday activities.  Should I keep looking only at their faces when in conversation?  Should I avoid taking in their entire body as they walk past or toward me?  Oops! Did my eyes just linger too long on that woman’s breasts or that man’s, umm, crotch?  Was any kind of looking or behavior particularly taboo?  At least the pre-imagined dilemma of becoming visibly aroused when looking a particularly attractive body was soon dispelled; the mere thought of what the shame of that would be like in this family setting was enough to immediately dampen any titillating thoughts that might possibly occur (the old “think of your mother-in-law, an ice-cold bath or some similar thing” also works) .  Honestly though, after only a few hours of being in a place where EVERYBODY is naked, things start to take on a complete sense of normalcy.  I think it was the children and young people who had obviously grown up comfortable and at ease with their bodies that most embodied the naturalness of the no-clothes environment.  That and the fact that these were not your typically imagined, sun-tanned, lean-bodied practitioners of nudism:  the vast majority of camp members were middle-aged and working class – the typical “neighbors next door.”

There was only one basic rule within the camp:  take a towel to sit on wherever you go.  This was obviously for hygienic purposes in the multiple shared spaces throughout the facility.  Shoes and sandals were optional, depending upon your heartiness in walking on gravel roads, through the woods or on hot sidewalks in your bare feet. In between the work on the cabin, there was plenty of time to enjoy the holiday activities that had been organized.   The early morning parade on the Fourth was a revelation:    Middle-aged and pot-bellied men wearing nothing more a pair of shoes, a hat or the occasional ceremonial sash - many of them veterans of WWII or the Korean War - led the procession carrying white-painted wooden rifles and bearing banners and large American flags.   There were nude drummers, baton-twirlers and kids waving miniature old glories.  The short parade culminated with a ceremonial raising (rising?) of the flag at the entrance to the camp.  There was a regional volleyball competition (yes, naturists do have a predilection for volleyball!).  It was as competitive and hard fought as any ESPN pro-circuit presentation.  The games went on throughout the day, as competing teams arrived either individually or in chartered buses.  At about four in the afternoon, people brought lawn chairs and blankets to an open baseball field with a large round canvas target placed in the middle to await a team of professional skydivers who were to fly over, jump and land in the camp.  Yes of course, NUDE skydivers.  I coincidentally happened to know one of the parachutists: a professional Literacy advocate and a light plane, glider and skydiving enthusiast and instructor.  He told me later that he and fellow members of his club had done this naked jump for several years – receiving in return all the beer they could drink after landing.

That evening there was a dance at the recreation center – interestingly the ONLY event of the weekend that required clothing.  I’m not quite sure of the rational, other than the fact that quarters were closer and perhaps throughout history and cultures dance was used as a courtship ritual.  Who knows? It was at that dance that I realized how much of our projection of sensuality is tied up with how we cover our body, not with our body itself.  It is often more alluring to imagine what is beneath our apparel – especially when we’re talking about clothing that is designed to heighten or accentuate what is underneath.

We completed most of Bob’s new cabin over that long Fourth of July weekend, with no mishaps to report.  I have a couple of photographs of myself climbing a ladder and hammering shingles at the top of the structure that I don’t think I will include here.   I returned home a bit more tanned than normal, and without the usual “bunny tail”.   I learned a lot – not all of it to do with the infinite variations of human anatomy.  I didn't convert to nudism – I think that I still retain enough of that small town “you did what???” mentality to never be completely comfortable with hanging around, especially outside and in the midst of others, with every aspect of my outer appearance on display, especially now that age has crept up and taken its due in many different ways.  I prefer to use the perfectly acceptable, manipulative effects of loose fitting and strategically patterned cloth.