LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Susan: It's Your Birthday. |
byMarion McGrath |
Grin and Bare It!
My gal Susan loves a surprise, and each year on her birthday I try to think of something different and special to do. Hmmmm. Birthday. Birthday presents, birthday cake, and, what else? Birthday suit. Seemed like a natural progression to me, so a little research on the internet helped me find just what I was looking for: Pine Tree Associates in Crownsville, Maryland, a nudist resort just about 45 minutes from where we live. My first phone call was answered not with a "hello," or "Pine Tree," but a raspy voice saying, "This is Mike." Being a nudist newbie I had a number of questions, all answered, and made reservations. Mike's parting advice on what I should bring? "Just bring a coupla towels and plenty of suntan lotion." I wanted this to be a total surprise to Susan, so I told her I'd do the packing. Easiest packing job I ever did: two towels, suntan lotion, and two books. When we pulled up in front of a twelve-foot high stockade fence-gate with speaker stand for entrance, Susan was getting a little nervous, and, admittedly, so was I. We were buzzed in, drove up to the office and were greeted by two people totally naked. I think that's when Susan began to suspect something! We went in to register and were told to "go leave your clothes in the car." I clutched and said to Susan, "Our clothes are already in the car." Her response? "Marion, she means for us to take off our clothes and go put them in the car." Yikes. Could I do this? Two minutes later found us without a stitch on, shuffling around in front of the building waiting for two people who were going to give us the obligatory grounds tour. Bouncing up in a golf cart was a cheery woman who introduced herself as, "Dorinda. Now y'all find that easy to rememberdoor as in door and winda (as in window, I guess!), Dorinda." Taken aback as I was with her exuberant greeting, I still took note of her attire. Dorinda had on a hot pink sun visor, six rings on her fingers, a gold watch, gold ankle bracelet, gold earrings, and the perfect string of pearls. Proving once again that pearls will go with anything, or nothing! Her husband, Larry, had on a hat, sunglasses, and a diamond stud in his left ear. All of a sudden we didn't know whether to feel, in our sandals, underdressed or overdressed. We were given a tour of the facilities and a brief history of Pine Tree. The association was formed in the early 1920s on a farm owned by the Keyes family, who had been part of a group that met to enjoy recreational nudity with their family and friends. The group kept a low profile and was very much a secret society. In 1934 when a national nudist association, called the American Sunbathing Association, was formed Pine Tree became its charter member. Today, Pine Tree boasts a membership of over 600. It spreads over 96 very private and secluded acres, and offers a large variety of activities. They are very strict about keeping a "gender balance," so the majority is definitely heterosexual couples. I've learned that there is a Nudist Hall of Fame at Cypress Cove Nudist Resort in Kissimmee, Florida. It was established in 1964 by T.H. Latimer and Ilsley Boone. I have no idea what qualifications for that honor are, but my mind can run rampant with the possibilities. Our tour started at Keyes Hall, a large space where many functions are held. And, there's a mind boggling variety: Labor Day Luau with roast pig, Halloween Party, Thanksgiving Feast, and a New Year's Eve dance. I whispered to Susan, "How do you think nudists dance?" Without any hesitation she responded, "Cheek to cheek." Keyes Hall also has a large heated indoor swimming pool for the winter months when, I suppose, the cold air might prove to be a challenge for erectile tissue. The common grounds are quite spacious, and more or less centered around a huge swimming pool. There are courts where tennis, paddleball and volleyball are played. As we strolled by there were six men on the volleyball courts engaged in a serious match. Susan commented that, "It's sort of a hundred and eighty degrees from drag volleyball." Hiking trails are scattered throughout the compound. Showers are outdoor and communal, while bathrooms are gender segregated (go figure), and are coyly named Adam and Eve. After lunch at Caf Derriere (I didn't make that up!), we headed for the pool. I can think of only one thing more fun to do with your clothes off than to be in water. Susan decided to go down the sliding board. The experience must have been like whooshing down a twelve-foot bidet, and the look on her face was priceless! While we were sunning poolside we had a gentleman caller. A senior citizen named Jack offered to take us on a tour of the residential area in his golf cart. How could we refuse? That mental picture is one I'll carry with me forever. I only regret that cameras are not allowed, and we missed the opportunity to catch it on film. There was no way we were going to miss the Nude Happy Hour at five o'clock. While sipping wine and eating snacks, I discovered pretty quickly that it's difficult to sit at one of these functions. It's almost impossible to have a conversation when there's so much eye level distraction. I was approached by a man named, appropriately, Bob. His opener was, "You look like a woman who's led an interesting life." I said I had led a most interesting life. Bob said he'd like to someday have a video recorder and just talk to people who he thought were interesting. He said, "I'd love to get you talking about your life on video. Why, you could even keep your clothes on." How to respond to that? The only thing I was sure of was that it definitely was not a come on. That night the moon was gloriously full. Since we apparently had not seen enough full moons, Susan and I headed down to the hot tub. Our old friend, Jack, offered to take us for a moonlight ride in his golf cart, but being naked in a golf cart once was enough. We did have fun, and Susan was surprised. Our only regret about going to Pine Tree was that there was no Nude Karaoke (a regular feature) while we were there. I know I would have requested, "If My Friends Could See Me Now." Hmm. Maybe not. Marion McGrath is a regular contributor to Letters from CAMP Rehoboth. She may be reached at Attagirl10@aol.com. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 14, No. 12 August 27, 2004 |