“If it could only be like this always – always summer, always alone, the fruit always ripe and Aloysius in a good temper…” ― Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited
[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]One of the joys of growing up in the country was slipping off on our bicycles in the middle of a summer afternoon to the low-water bridge about a mile from our house and going skinny dipping. Not that we ever actually admitted that we were skinny dipping. I’d get my shorts wet anyway so that Mother wouldn’t be suspect. Still, the joy wasn’t just in being in the shallow pool of cool water that flowed over that crumbling slab of concrete; the delight was being naked, au naturale in nature as though, just maybe, the gods had intended for us to be that way all along.
According to Poppa’s sermon, technically, that philosophy was right. While I didn’t have any direct proof that Adam and Eve ever went skinny dipping, if they didn’t have any clothes then they wouldn’t have had much choice, did they? The only other option was that they didn’t bathe at all and that would have just been gross, even if they were, in all likelihood, totally fictional. Even fictional characters should be clean, shouldn’t they? And little boys need to be clean, as mothers are so often fond of reminding them. Going skinny dipping always seemed like the perfect solution, especially if we had spent the earlier part of the day getting absolutely filthy.
Skinny dipping in that tiny little pool made our summers right up to the point when, mid-way through the summer we were 16, someone saw a water moccasin in our pool. I didn’t see it, but the scream of “SNAKE!” was all I needed. We were all out of the water and pulling on our shorts as quickly as possible while simultaneously, every one of us, trying to hold our hands over our family jewels. If there was one place on our body we absolutely could not stand to be snake bit, it was our penises. They had only just recently grown to a point of not being totally embarrassing. We didn’t want to lose them to a damn snake.[/one_half]
[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]That was the last summer in that little watering hole. We moved the next year and I was far too upset at the lack of attractive girls my age to be terribly interested in skinny dipping. There was that place way back on Turkey Creek that was suitable, but driving all the way out there was a pain and if it had rained in the past couple of days one was likely to get stuck crossing the pasture. I did sneak off a couple of times with that blonde I met at church camp. I’ve often wondered whatever happened to her… if only I could remember her name.
Skinny dipping is a bonus that comes with living in the country in the summer. City dwellers are much more uptight about being naked in their public pools. The model’s boyfriend let us into the pool at their apartment complex before the sun was fully up for us to catch today’s photo. We were early enough we didn’t think anyone would notice. Someone did, of course, and he damn near lost his job over it. City people really get stressed and worked up about these matters. Perhaps, just maybe, if they spent a little more time skinny dipping they might be better able to relax and enjoy their summer. If one can’t kick back and relax a bit when the weather is this lovely, when is it ever possible?
I’ve not been skinny dipping in over 30 years now, I’m sorry to say. It’s not as easy to slip off, not as easy to find a place suitably secluded, and as an adult if one gets caught it tends to result in the police getting called. That’s almost as bad as a snake bite; no one really needs either one. Still, I have some wonderful memories of those carefree days from my youth and even an old man can still fantasize a bit. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll stumble across the perfect little pool of water while no one’s looking. Who’s down to join me?[/one_half_last]
The Thing of Nightmares
My Own Nightmare (2009)
“The 50-50-90 rule: anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there’s a 90% probability you’ll get it wrong.” ― Andy Rooney
[one_half padding=”4px 10px 0 4px”]A lot of people have trouble sleeping for a number of different reasons; for some medical, others emotional, and for some it is totally because they just watched the wrong movie before going to bed. It happens. Nightmares. We hated them as children because they were so wild and ferocious and creative. As adults, though, what we often hate about them is the fact they are too damn real. Nightmares for adults seldom involve exotic monsters drawn from an over-active imagination but, instead, come from real life, involving people we actually know and love, in situations we seem unable to stop.
I rarely have nightmares anymore. I don’t watch movies before going to bed. I’m careful to time my medicine. I pull my adventurous imagination back a couple of notches. And then, I don’t sleep that long. I’m blaming that on getting older. Typically, I can go a couple of hours before my body thinks we need to wake up and check the house for mysterious noises. But then, there are weeks like this one where it has rained every night, causing already problematic arthritis to go into hyperdrive, making it impossible to find a comfortable sleeping position for more than 15 minutes or so. The dark circles under my eyes are almost as black as my wardrobe. When one doesn’t sleep, one doesn’t have nightmares. A small consolation.
Then, there are the nine families in Charleston, South Carolina who are living a nightmare. Wednesday night was prayer meeting night. I remember what that was like. Every Wednesday, usually around 6:30 or 7:00 PM, the church doors would open and 15-20 people, on a good night, would trickle into the small sanctuary. We’d sing a song, Poppa would read a few verses of scripture, then would come the prayer requests. Every possible concern of the community would be raised, both personal and public. After about 30 minutes, they’d start praying, pray for another 30 minutes, then go home. Except, for these nine people, they didn’t go home. They were shot dead, right where they prayed, by someone who had sat through the whole service. A living nightmare in every possible sense.[/one_half]
[one_half_last padding=”4px 4px 0 10px”]Today’s photo was meant to be part of a composite where a beautiful young woman was awakened by a more frightening version of herself. The concept required shooting the model twice, once reclining in various states of slumber, and then again as the nightmarish self. Care to guess which this one is? Unfortunately, we only got one finished image from the set. I totally messed up the shoot, failing to mark my tripod settings correctly and thereby throwing off the perspective. Trying to composite the two pieces consumed days as I tried to correct the perspective and make something work. When I say there’s one finished image, it’s only because I eventually gave up and called it done. You won’t find it on display.
When I opened this file and took another look, though, I couldn’t help but be impressed by the makeup work of Kelly Oswalt. Sara Williams is such a lovely little wisp of a thing in real life and Kelly did an amazing job of creating something a little more terrifying. Even without the accompanying “beauty” piece, this makes for an interesting and striking image. I also had to giggle a bit looking at this, as Sara is now eight-months-plus pregnant, about to deliver her first child any day now. Perhaps Sara can threaten the child when she gets older with something like, “This is what happens to mommy when you don’t take a nap.” Of course, then the baby would have nightmares, and that just doesn’t help anyone, does it?
I wish we lived in a world where all our nightmares were those derived from imagination. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. As long as there is hate there will be nightmares like that of Wednesday night. Such events do not happen in truly civilized societies. In fact, the United States is the only first world country where mass shootings such as this are an issue. Our nightmare has repeated itself far too many times and we fail to even bother looking for a reasonable solution for fear it might keep one person from carrying a gun or somehow diminish the shooter’s rights, despite the fact he’s trampling the rights of others to live peacefully.[/one_half_last]
We can’t put a stop to all nightmares, but we can reduce them. We have no choice. Now is the time to seriously put a clamp on gun violence. This is one nightmare we must end.
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