Nostalgia is my trunk in the attic full of fantasies, make-believe, and many memories, some of childhood days and some more recently of wonderful straight and gay adventures.
In fact this life has been quite a trip over many rivers and some really interesting trips to the woods.
Remember the first time you skinny dipped with the other boys at Y Camp? Exciting alright! The revelation that all 13 year olds were not born equal. Some even sported strategic pubic hair; and some, it turns out, were blessed with being hidden behind the door when God passed out the genitalia--and later to learn that that’s as good as it gets. Beware of the latent pubic hair appearing on the palm of your hand or you’re going to burn in hell if you don’t stop playing with yourself. Oh the joys of sin and early youth.
Originally my fertile imagination always conjured up visions of Currier and Ives 19th century nostalgia when “Over the River, etc.” reared its bucolic head. “One Horse Open Sleigh” and all.
With growing exposure to birds and bees one learned that they were not the only creatures in the bushes. Oh to run naked through the fields of lush green grass and exploring passion in the primeval forest lie nude with a newly discovered lover.
The rivers still run and woods still conceal soft beds of leaves to sleep upon with the fairy queen of your choice.
As for me my trip isn’t over yet. There is much too much nostalgia creation coming my way before I close the lid on the old trunk and make my way out of the attic.
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