Summer's Almost Gone but I Haven't Become A Nudist Yet

Oh crap! Summer’s almost gone. It’s the thirteenth of August already – Friday the thirteenth on a Wednesday (if you remember Pogo). In a few more weeks I’ll have to take my shorts and tee shirts off and put them back in my summer-wear drawer. Don’t worry, I’ll put something else on, you know, like long pants and flannel shirt. I’m no nudist. Not that I would mind being Mr. Au Naturel once in a while. But how do guys play volleyball without a cup?

I don’t think Kathleen would like me to be a nudist either. She objects when I talk about walking around without a shirt on like I see other guys doing. I don’t know if this is because I have a kegger-type torso rather than the six-pack type or what, but if I talk about going shirtless she makes a face and usually says, “Oh, please!”

Wearing as few clothes as possible in summer feels good though. I remember one time going shirtless – before Kathleen – and driving a friend’s convertible down the highway and just letting the warm air flow over my body. Obviously this was not during winter in Washington. I was playing The Beach Boys and Neil Diamond on the 8-track singing along “good, good, good vibrations” and “sweet caroline.” That was freedom!

I always think before the start of each summer that this time I’m going to do something really fun and memorable, but I never seem to get around to it. My best summer memories seem to involve water. Kath and I walked Sam in one of our parks the other day where the Deschutes River runs through it. People were inner-tubing in the hot sun and having a ball, but I never did that. In Whatcom County where I used to live the rivers ran pretty high and fast and too many inner tubers got caught under log jams and drowned.

I have water skied a few times though. I used to do that with friends in the San Joaquin River delta near Stockton, CA. That was a lot of fun, but all the farm-poisoned run-off water I drank probably wasn’t real good for me.

When I was a teenager living in Humboldt County, CA. I dived off a steep rock into a shallow pool in the Van Duzen River to impress Donna. Scraped my forehead and elbow and tore my swim trunks clean off. Had to beg my sister to run to the car for a LARGE towel. I never did learn if Donna was impressed by my feat of daring-do.

My aunt Jan goaded me into learning to swim in a little creek near Ukiah, CA. There were crawfish at the bottom of the pool in the creek and I didn’t want them to bite my toes, but Jan’s encouragement (teasing) made me decide, what the hey! and I swam across the pool.

I always thought it would be cool to be a lifeguard and to be admired by girls. I dreamed I might save a pretty girl and she would feel so beholden to me she would become my life-long steady.

I did have a steady girlfriend in high school and we went swimming in a river in the redwoods for Senior Sneak Day. Alas, I somehow managed to get sand into her swimming suit. She was a little cross with me for a while after that.

I wonder now, of course, if nudists have to worry about river sand in their privates. If you can’t play volleyball and you have to worry about sand in your privates, maybe I’m glad I’ve never done anything really exciting during summer – like becoming a nudist. You think?