spokesNspin

I will forewarn family members before they read further to be prepared to be shocked.  To my sisters, if you don’t want to hear a story about your father that might surprise you stop reading now.  To those who don’t want to read something about their grandfather that they might have preferred not to even think about stop reading now.

If you are of a prudish mindset don’t read this.

When I was a teenager my father would take me and my brother on an extended camping/fishing trip between the first and second cutting of hay.  We looked forward to it all summer.  The annual trip was what kept us motivated to keep hauling hay and moving sprinkler pipe.

The trip normally evolved into a sort of young men’s/boy scout trip with several fathers and sons from our farming community.  We had two places we would go.  We would either pack into the Beckler River in Yellowstone National Park or we would go to the Wind River country of Wyoming.

One year we had been at our base camp for a day in Yellowstone.  On the next day we took the horses and rode a few more miles into the the country and fished along the way.  Eventually we came to some warm natural springs.

My father suggested that we take a dip.  We were proper young men having been raised in the confines  Christian homes with regular instruction on moral behavior.   We explained that we hadn’t brought our swimming attire.

My father and the rest of the adults looked at us like “what’s with these kids”.  They shrugged their shoulders and the next thing we knew there were half a dozen adult men in their birthday suits gaily jumping off rocks into the pool.

“The water’s fine boys come on in!”

Remember these were hard working farmers who spent most of their waking hours in the sun.  They wore jeans, long sleeved Big Mac work shirts and straw hats.  They looked like plucked chickens running around having the time of their life.  After 40 years I still can’t get that vision out of my mind and I have really tried.

We were eventually pursuaded.  We sheepishly removed our clothing while constantly looking over our shoulders.  I swear I saw the devil himself pushing me on.

What this means is that the first time in my life I went skinny dippin’ it was with my father and in Yellowstone National Park!

So what is the point of this post?

Recently I was with a group of people who were commenting on the attire, or lack thereof, of some people engaged in exercise and lamenting the end of society to the ways of Soddom and Gamorrah.   

I have read that in colonial times preachers were much more graphic in describing sin when preaching against it than they are now.

Yes it is true that in many ways people reveal more skin in public now than they did a few years ago.  But in many other ways we are also more prudish.  What would happen in this day and age if a group of adults led young men in an adventure of skinny dippin?

I can’t remember if I have ever been skinny dippin’ since the experience in Yellowstone. I know I am certainly not going to participate in any of those save the world naked bike rides. Ouch! Imagine the chaffing.

Times change and I think we get worked up over stuff that really doesn’t matter.

This entry was posted on Monday, September 29th, 2008 at 5:59 am and is filed under Family, Politics, News & Social Commentary. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.