The Bare Went Over the Mountain: A Shy Person's Guide to Public Nudity

Photo: Brooke Raymond

There is nothing more precious than seeing the unbridled freedom of a child when they are naked. They will run and laugh without a care in the world. They don't really care if they have a big tummies or chubby butts; they are just happy to be free of those diapers - at least until they are captured and re-clothed. Nude children romp around in sprinklers and freely skinny-dip. They love to bathe together. In our clinic, we weigh infants and toddlers in the buff so that we can get an accurate weight, devoid of a heavy-laden diaper. Because of this policy, I see dozens of little butts streaking by my office nearly every hour.

In high school, we were required to group-shower after physical education. Often, this was the first time that many of us experienced post-puberty nudity. In a small town, these were often the guys we skinny-dipped with anyway, so it was not a big deal.

As a hormonally-charged pre-teen, my friend, Jim and I were once given a picture of a naked woman by our local barber/sex educator, Nolan. We were so excited, that we actually created a shrine of sorts to house this treasure. This treasure was eventually lost in the stacks of Playboy magazines that somehow made their way into our secret hiding spots in the years that followed.

In the 70's, I was once held up in traffic for hours while thousands of streakers ran across San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge. We still hear crowds cheering when a lone streaker runs across a football field. Masked (of course) streakers still run through high school or college graduation ceremonies. People really seem to love nudity, but only a select few will actually shed their clothes in public.

Photo: Lyndi & Jason

Marin County, California, just north of the Golden Gate, was a hippie enclave in the 70's. I live there. I was not a hippie. Most of the beaches were nude beaches (many of them still are). Once, while walking (clothed) down a beach in Bolinas, CA, my dog happily ran over to a group of naked girls. He refused to come when I called him. Of course, I had to go get him. I walked my dog more often in those days.

The North Beach area of San Francisco is still famous for their nude shows, for those who choose to pay to see nudity. While traveling with my 9 year old grandson last summer, he turned and asked, "Grandpa, what is a NUD?" (He pronounced this word like it rhymed with "mud".) Don't you just love what kids come up with sometimes?

One of my strangest experiences in 1975 was a nude graduate school interview! I applied for a master's program at UC Davis. In order to save me the travel time, three of the faculty members offered to interview me at their home in Sonoma County. I arrived promptly, clad in my interview suit and tie. There was no answer at the door, but I heard them call me from the back yard. As I entered through the gate, I couldn't help but notice that I was a bit over-dressed for the occasion. I don't really know, but I think I am the only person ever to be interviewed for graduate school by three nude faculty members. I remained clothed for the interview and was accepted anyway. Six years later, I joined that same faculty and eventually shared in those nude experiences many times at our annual retreats. But many things have changed over the last thirty years. We all wear clothes now for some reason. Apparently, as a person ages and their bodies change, they are a bit more selective when it comes to public nudity. We are not even comfortable looking at ourselves while walking past a mirror.

In the 80's, my wife and I kayaked down the Green River in Utah, naked most of the time. The high canyon walls protected my white skin from becoming seriously-red skin. My wife and I also visited several California "clothing-optional" spas, soaked in sulfur-smelling water, and plopped into mud baths. (Yes, we were "nud.") It was a real Zen experience. Once, while cooking in some very, very hot water at Wilbur Hot Springs, some idiot broke the meditative silence by belly-flopping into the hot tub, thrashing around like two-year old with ADD. As we stared at this unexpected exhibition, we suddenly realized that he did not dive into the tub; he had fainted and fallen in. What we were witnessing was him drowning! We pulled him out of the tub, flipped him on his side, and he started breathing and coughing. A few minutes later, he recovered and walked away; naked and embarrassed, of course.

My older brother, Larry, was born wearing a suit and tie. The idea of going nude was unimaginable...until he tried it. In an effort to shock him out of his back East conservativism, I made reservations at a wonderful facility near Big Sur, CA, called The Esalen Institute. I had taken a few classes there in the past and really enjoyed zoning out in their big hot tub perched on a cliff over the Pacific. Initially, my brother absolutely refused to go "au naturale". However, after less than an hour, he was happily romping toward the hot tubs like the rest of us. Needless to say, he had a wonderful experience and has visited Esalen a few times since then. Being able to shed your clothes, soak in a hot tub, eat organic food, and have a relaxing massage is truly a mental catharsis during times of stress and indecision.

Take a long look at my picture posted on this Blog. You may see me as a conservative, mature, grandfatherly, medical professional. In reality, I am a reformed nudist. That's right! I admit it. Now that I live on top of a rural mountain with no close neighbors, I am starting to revert. I have my own hot tub and sauna. I have a big tummy and a chubby butt (again), not unlike those little toddlers that run by my office door. And, like those children, I don't really care if anyone sees me naked. Because I care about the health of my readers, I will not post any pictures, but rest assured that I am naked under my clothes right now.

Related Topics:

• A Body To Love
• The Dangers of Sleeping Naked

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