When I was a student in primary school, our teacher periodically assigned poems for all of us to commit to memory in order to increase our comprehension of the written English language. As we were all Deaf, this assignment entailed us to not only remember the English words as they were written, but also their equivalent in our manual language: American Sign Language (ASL). For students who were either ten or maybe eleven years old, this was a very intimidating task and was not undertaken lightly.
Being a bare practitioner (naturist/nudist) for almost my entire life, I admit that I have seen things that probably would be unbelievable to most of my faint-hearted textile (clothes wearing) acquaintances. Some may even being disgusted with such sights but I have no way of knowing what, exactly, they find disgusting: the nudity or the action. But I imagine it’s safe to think both. Narrow minds don’t tend see beyond their noses in order to pass judgment upon others.
What those who regularly read here already know, Summer is my favorite season of the year. Not only is it a time to wander outdoors bare, unburdened by clothes, but as an professional educator, it’s the time of year with no lessons to prepare or lectures to give. Much of my free time, spent outside, is in the company of a book. Reading mostly for pleasure and not research. Being bare at will and with books in the heat and humidity are the major reasons why I enjoy summers.
This marks the first Wednesday installment of a post commemorating October as GLBTQ Bare History Month. It is probably best to remind everyone that the “B” in GLBTQ stands for bisexual and not bare. With that out of the way and clear to all, every Wednesday during October a post featuring vintage (old) photographs of bare men will publish here as a means of making amends for the tragic fact that there is not a Bare History Month celebrated nationally.