THE NAKED TRUTH

When I was three-years-old, my parents took me to a public swimming pool and let me splash about in the nude. They were quickly informed that they were breaking the law, and little me needed to be in a bathing suit.  That was my first and last foray into public nudism.

A few years ago, one of my neighbors asked me if I could recommend a handyman. Of course, I did so. After he went to her home, he called me and said, “That was one Hell of a referral.” I said, “What happened?” He said, “ A lady, old enough to be my grandma, opened the door. Then she twirled around to show me her new skirt, but she was buck naked from the waist up.” I replied, “What did you do?” And he said, “I fixed her plumbing.” That was when I found out that my neighbor, and her husband, were devout nudists who vacationed to a nudist resort in Florida every winter.

What brought all this to mind was a story in the Washington Post by Craig Pittman (6/8/20) with the headline, “As Nudist Resorts Reopen, Clothes Come Off. Masks go on.”  According to the article, just like other businesses, Florida’s nudist industry was hit hard by the coronavirus pandemic, but now places like the Bare Buns Cafe allow limited seating on the patio with patrons bringing their own towels and following the six-feet apart rule.

The nudism business is a big deal in Florida. It is estimated that 2.2 million nudists visit resorts and beaches and take cruises in the all together, contributing more than seven-billion-dollars to Florida’s economy. That number is nothing to sneeze at—especially if you don’t have anywhere to put your Kleenex.  According to Pittman, “Florida has more nudist resorts than any other state with 29 registered clubs offering activities such as swimming, golf, pickle ball, tennis and volleyball.” Since resorts are now opening, and people are encouraged to wear masks, I guess the best way to recognize a naked friend is by his tattoo.

Before the concept of body shaming, Greeks and Romans played in the nude and the best athletes in the original Olympics were unencumbered by clothing. “Gymnos” (naked) was how athletes trained and competed. A Christian emperor put an end to the games in 393 AD. In the Renaissance period a reluctant Church had to accept the idea that God created man in his own image and that “He” had done a good job.

In the 16th Century the Puritans disapproved and went to New England and everybody had to cover up. In the late 18th and early 19th centuries there were no protestors with signs that said, “NAKED IS GOOD,” but Henry David Thoreau gave the American people pause when he took daily naked walks called “air baths,” and President John Quincy Adams regularly bathed nude in the Potomac River. I’d pay money to see Donald Trump do that because I have never seen anyone walk on water.

Americans in the Frontier went swimming naked in swimming holes, but they did not play pickle ball in the nude, because it hadn’t been invented yet.  The Victorian Era abhorred nakedness so much that people covered up from head to toe, and even piano legs were covered to “avoid sexual arousal.”  That reminded me of the story about the French artist, Toulouse Lautrec, when, in a gallery, a woman said to him, “That nude painting, Sir, is obscene!” and he replied, “Madame, the painting is not obscene. The obscenity is in your mind.”

So, back to the present conundrum of what to cover to stay healthy. This research  led me to University of Florida epidemiologist, Cindy Prins, who advises social distancing, and masks, for the clothed as well as the unclothed among us, and she adds, “As a greeting, I would not recommend the Butt Bump.”

And that is the Naked Truth!

Esther Blumenfeld