IT'S A MANZ WORLD

MORNING MIST - Note: Most of my Manz World stories are fictionalized accounts of how the painting shown here came to be. However, some of the stories are rooted in truth.

Even though I love where I live, I very much enjoy getting away for a few days. Whether for a weekend or more, getting out of town clears my mind and refreshes my body as well as my spirit. And, so, from time to time, I plan time away. Sometimes it’s with a group of people. Sometimes with a friend or two. Sometimes just by myself.

I love the beach, or, as they say along the eastern seaboard, ‘the shore.’ There are numerous oceanside communities to choose from, places like Stone Harbor and Cape May in New Jersey. Then there’s Rehoboth Beach in Delaware and Ocean City in Maryland. I’ve been to all those places but, since they are all unique, I’ve still not decided which is my favorite.

However, there is another location I enjoy even more than the shore, one that is totally different than those shore towns. That other location has rivers and creeks and lakes all settled among the heavily forested Pocono Mountains of northern Pennsylvania. One notable feature is that there is no need to book a reservation at a hotel or motel like at the shore since the place I speak of is very private and quite isolated. It’s a beautiful cabin owned by the family of my friend, Ned Weaver.

Ned and I have been friends for years. Like several of my friends, I first met him at the nudist camp where I was a member. Our friendship started there—we were on the same volleyball team—and has grown ever since. Because he lives near me, we occasionally meet for dinner or a movie. It was during one of our dinner conversations that I initially found out about his family’s mountain hideaway. As he described it and the surroundings, I thought, how wonderful to have such a place to visit.

I guess it was my response to that description that prompted Ned to call me only a few weeks later. That call was to invite me to spend a long weekend at what he called his “Hippy Hideout.” Having a career in finance, one that has Ned sitting in an office, talking on the phone or typing on a computer all day, he said he was glad he had a place where he could be away from the pressures of the job, a place where he could shuck off the tensions of the work week as well as shuck off his clothes. And, so, in answer to his invitation I said a quick, “Yes, I’d love to.”

It was late on a Thursday morning when I pointed my SUV north, heading it toward an area in eastern Pennsylvania called the Delaware River Gap. Ned had told me the cabin sat on several hundred acres of wooded property, about twenty-five miles from Bushkill, Pennsylvania, a small town close to the beautiful Bushkill Falls, a popular tourist attraction.

I took me a little over two hours of travel before I turned from a state highway onto a much narrower county road. I ended up driving about twenty miles on that road, one that weaved in and around the numerous tall trees of the seemingly endless forests. Even though it was a rather warm day, I had all the car windows down. That was due to the cool shade provided by the canopy of green overhead. Equally enjoyed was the fresh smell of nearby pine trees that wafted through the air on a gentle breeze.

I eventually arrived at a smaller, unpaved road that had a handmade sign saying, ‘WEAVER LANE.’ From instructions given to me, I knew this was the entrance road to the property owned by the Weaver family. That road took me further back into the dense forest for about an eighth of a mile. Finally, the road broke through the trees, into a open grassy area where I saw a cabin with Ned’s car parked nearby. As I approached the cabin I saw Ned, totally naked, sweeping off the front porch.

The cabin was rather large and of modern design. According to Ned, it was built about twenty years ago in order to accommodate the growing number of family members wanting to use it. He told me there had been a much smaller, simpler structure on the property, one that had been hand-built by his great-grandfather back in the early 1900s. He said it had been a one-room cabin made with logs that his grandfather and other members of the family cut from the surrounding forest. He remembers it as just one large room—there were no bedrooms—with a couple of bunk beds along one wall. Ned said if more than four people were going to stay over night, the extra people—usually children—slept on the floor. It also had no electricity and no running water, just a well with a hand pump outside. And no bathroom, only an outhouse in the backyard. Bathing happened in a pond located a few hundred yards away, one that I caught a glimpse of as I drove closer to Ned’s car. I remember Ned’s smile as he told me, “There were no nudists in my family, however, as a child I can remember skinny dipping with my cousins in that pond. I think that’s where I learned that being naked can be fun.”

Once parked, it did not take long for me to get out of the car to say hello to my friend. After a wave of greeting from Ned, I got out my duffle bag and took it to the cabin. In addition, I took in a large cardboard box filled with food that I had bought along the way. Since I was not paying for lodging, I told Ned I would bring some food and some good wine, too. Fortunately, the new cabin was outfitted with a complete kitchen, including a refrigerator, where I placed the perishable food.

Even though Ned knew I was a nudist—he had seen me naked at the camp—he wanted to make sure I was comfortable spending some time naked at the cabin, especially since it was going to be just the two of us. That was a question he had asked me several days before. I assured him it was okay. I added, “In fact, I’m hoping it’s warm enough that I can be naked for the whole weekend.” Upon hearing that Ned smiled and said, “That’s my preference, too.”

Ned had also made me aware that we would not be disturbed. He said the cabin was very isolated. “The place is surrounded by acres of woods. My nearest neighbor is about a half mile down the road. So, he said, “No one is going to see us or bother us.” With that knowledge in mind, it did not take me long after my arrival to strip down to nothing.

Once I got settled Ned gave me a tour of the cabin. Although it had a rustic theme the interior of the cabin was very modern and beautifully decorated. There were three bedrooms, two baths, and a large family room that included a long dinning table where, Ned said, the family would sometimes gather for Thanksgiving dinner. Even Christmas, if there wasn't too much snow. After the tour Ned brought out two bottles of beer—Yuengling, of course—and suggested we sit in the lounge chairs on the porch to drink it. It was nearing evening. The sun was getting lower in the sky. There was a mild breeze blowing through the trees, making the limbs sway a bit. A feeling of refreshment was in the air. As I viewed the woods that encircled the cabin I said, “This is about as perfect as it gets.” Ned nodded as he lifted his beer bottle toward me, an obvious sign of agreement.

It was the next morning, after a wonderful night’s sleep, that I woke up to an empty cabin. Without needing to put on any clothing, I walked from the bedroom to the kitchen. On the kitchen table I saw a note with the message spelled out in print: I’M AT THE POND FOR A SWIM. COME JOIN ME IF YOU WISH.

Ned had told me the night before that it was his habit to take a swim after awaking. So, in response to the written note, I walked out of the cabin, down the front steps, and headed to the pond. Once I’d made it through a grove of pine trees, I saw Ned swimming in the water. Knowing that he had invited me to participate, it did not take me long to join him.

During the next several days, Ned and I enjoyed a relaxing, yet invigorating, time. We swam in the pond. We hiked on some of the trails his grandfather had cut through the woods. We ate some delicious meals and drank some wonderful beers and wines. All in all we had a great time, all while being naked.

One of the benefits of that weekend was the closeness that grew between Ned and me. We had been friends before, but these few days drew us into an even deeper, tighter relationship. Ned acknowledged it on our last evening at the cabin. Our dinner was done, as were the dishes. With beers in hand, we moved to the porch and sat in the lounge chairs, as we had on previous evenings. As we sat there, sipping on our beers, Ned quietly said, “I gotta tell you something.” After that there was a brief silence. Then, with his head turned toward me, he said, “I don’t really have any good male friends. I mean, close male friends. Oh, I know some guys who are great to hang out with. And, yes, they are friends. But, with you, during this time, I feel like…” He paused again as if trying to think of the right words to say. He then continued with, “I hope this doesn’t sound too weird, but I feel like you’re the brother I never had. I mean, to have this time with you. To hang out with you in this way…” He swept his hand over his naked body as he said that. “I felt like I didn’t have to be careful or embarrassed by how we were or what we said or did. It was just so fun being, you know, guys… just us guys hanging out together. Honestly, I’ve never had a time like that.” He then lifted his bottle of beer and said, “I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you. And thank you for…” He left his sentence hanging in the air as if I was the one to silently complete it.

I knew what he was referring to. During the four days I was there Ned and I acted like we were boys again, exploring the woods naked, skinny dipping in the pond, doing whatever we wanted, even peeing together in the woods, which turned into a contest of who could pee the furthest. With both of us having drunk a good amount of beer, we found we were pretty much an even match. Connected to those experiences was laughter. It was as if we were in our second childhood. We were playful. Having fun. Always there was a sense of innocent joy.

In hearing what Ned had said, I responded in kind. As I lifted my beer bottle, I not only thanked him for having me visit but emphasized the many things I had enjoyed, which not only included those events he spoke of but also my joy in just being with him. It was his presence and the camaraderie we shared that brought specialness to these few days. I found that we were truly kindred spirits.

There are many scenes from my time with Ned that I can easily pull up in my memory. One that I can’t forget is the view of him going into the pond one morning. It was such a beautiful sight that I could easily imagine it being in a painting. The quietness of the water. The green background of the forest beyond. The mist still hanging over the pond. And my friend, Ned, wading naked into it. All that I saw impacted me in such a memorable way that I knew I needed to do the painting which you see here. I call it “Morning Mist.”