Baths, by Ricky

          The first baths I clearly remember were the first two I took at my grandparent’s farm in Minnesota.  I had just turned 8-years old.  It was on the first Saturday following my arrival in June.  In the summer kitchen is where we bathed, using a large galvanized washtub.  It is “different” from the bathtub back home but I could do it without any problem, so I was not nervous.

          My 11 1/2-year old uncle went first every time.  The first time, I was in the house.  My grandmother sent me out to bathe while my uncle was still in the tub.  As I have stated before, at this age I was still extremely shy about anyone seeing me naked.  However, I always wanted to see any boy naked (girls were still yucky at that prepubescent age), so at his request, I washed his back and watched him dry and dress (I did not see the thing I wanted to see).  He wanted to watch me undress and get in the tub, but I did not with him there so he left for the house.

          One thing I did not plan on was using my uncle's bath water.  Nonetheless, I did it.  The water was only tepid at that point so my bath did not take very long.  I dried, dressed, and went to the house.  Another thing I did not plan on, or suspect, was grandmother's suspicion that my bathing was entirely too short to get me clean.  She asked me if I washed all over and I said yes, but she then looked behind my ears and sent me back to try again.  I never had this trouble with my mother (perhaps California is cleaner).

          Back in the tub, I washed behind my ears and everywhere else I thought I missed.  After returning inside, grandma checked my ears again and darn it; she still found dirt behind my ears.  Therefore, back I went, only this time she went with me!  My stomach started doing flip-flops.  No one sees me naked and I could tell she would be the first since I turned six.  I was a nervous wreck.  My grandmother then undressed me and had me stand in the tub while she washed me from toe to head and all places in between.  I was in such a mental state with queasy stomach and all; I do not know how I managed not to throw up.  This would happen when I'm out of peppermints.*

          I was out of peppermints again the next Saturday when she took me to the tub and washed me again.  After that, I used extra care to wash thoroughly everywhere on my body, so she never washed me again and I did not need peppermints.

          I had my first steam bath at my uncle's home in Washington State when I was ten.  He had one built into the same building in which he brewed beer.  According to my father, the beer was good.  I was only a little nervous but not upset.  By then I actually wanted to see my dad, uncle, and cousins nude.  I was not disappointed.  (No one suspected it but puberty for me began when I was 9 ½.  However, there were no noticeable outward indications yet.)  It was decades later before I went to a steam bath as an adult.

          By the time, I moved to Denver, I did not need peppermints anymore because I was no longer very concerned or anxious about being seen in the buff by men or women.  Friends eventually told me about the Lake Steam Baths, Indian Springs Resort and its hot springs, and a coed hot springs near Penrose.  All of these places featured either mandatory or optional nude bathing.

          The hot mineral water at the Indian Springs Resort actually greatly reduced the pain in my back.  I recommend it to everyone who enjoys nude bathing and hope it does not become a “lost” part of our culture.  All people should learn the joys of nude bathing in either a hot springs or steam room.

*  The reference to “peppermints” is the result of myself and three other members of the group deciding that we would use the phrase “This would happen when I'm out of peppermints” in each of our stories.  The phrase itself came from a movie that we had seen together during the previous week.  In the movie, “Nijinsky,” one of the gay characters used the phrase in response to a stressful situation.  Our stories were spaced out during the reading session so after the first two times it was read, the others caught on to the joke.

© 22 October 2012

About the Author 

 I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale and then in Redondo Beach.  Just prior to turning 8 years old in 1956, I was sent to live with my grandparents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents divorced.

When united with my mother and stepfather two years later in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force, I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11-2001 terrorist attack.

I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.   I find writing these memories to be therapeutic.

My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.