Gym³, by Ricky

Gym¹  

          It was in early June 1956, when I was banished (due to divorce proceedings) from California and sent to Minnesota to live with my grandparents on their farm.  I had just turned 8 years old on the 9^th.  At the time, I expected to be gone for only the summer; but it turned into a 2 year “prison sentence” away from home and “loving” parents.

          I shared a room and bed with my uncle, Dixon, who was 11 in December of 1955 and 11 ½ by June of '56; and about to enter 6^th grade, while I was looking at starting 3^rd grade.  Due to that traumatic spanking I received when only 4 or 5, I was extremely shy and reluctant to let anyone see me dressing, undressing, in my underwear, or bathing; and would “pitch a fit” if someone tried.  Of course, I couldn't do much when Grandma bathed me the first two times in the summer kitchen's galvanized “wash tub” because I hadn't washed all the dirt off by myself.  I quickly learned to do that however.  I was dirty because farm life is not soil free and baths were only on Saturday nights to be fresh for church on Sunday.  I had to use my uncle's used bathwater so perhaps I never really got clean.

          When school began, my uncle, who by then knew from personal experience of my extreme reactions to any attempt to breach my “modesty”, began to tell me about having to take showers naked with other boys present after gym classes beginning in 6^th grade.  Daily school showers were a necessity back then as most farms did not have indoor plumbing and once a week bathing on the farm just wasn't sufficient in a close social environment.  Pubescent boys smell as they perspire during gym activities and recess playtime.

          As a result of my uncle's teasing about showering naked with other boys, I began to develop a fear of 6^th grade, even though it was 3 school years away and I expected to return to California soon.  The months of my exile passed, and a new school year began and I realized that 6^th grade was now closer than desired and my fear level increased but mostly ignored for the time being.  Fortunately, I was given a reprieve and my “sentence” was commuted in late May of 1958 and I was taken back to California to live with my mother and her new husband.

          When I began 5^th grade at So. Lake Tahoe, I discovered that there were no showers after recess or any P.E. classes in elementary school, those being reserved and mandatory in high school only.  I was able to put my fear and stress level on hold for 4 more years, while I got to “enjoy” the beginnings of puberty.

          In September of 1962 I finally had to face my fear as I had finally arrived at high school and the dreaded after P.E. mandatory naked showers with other boys.  By now, due to my well-established desire to see any boy naked, I no longer feared being naked among boys (or girls for that matter).  What I was afraid of was having a spontaneous erection while showering, because at 14, I was still having random ones. 

          At school, they mostly struck when I was sitting in front of my 9^th grade English teacher, Mrs. Joyce Holmstad.  She wore low cut blouses and sat on the front edge of her desk (directly in front of me) and would often lean forward revealing to me (or maybe exposing to me) some bra and more than sufficient for erection purposes, cleavage.  I always had to hide my crotch with books when I left at the end of the class period.  But I digress from the gym.  In all the four years of mandatory PE showers, no one ever got an erection that I could tell, and I certainly took every opportunity to look for one.

          Gym²

          Actually, gym² is really Jim #1.  I met Jim Robertson when he was 11 and I was 13.  We became friends and he asked me to go to church with him one Sunday and we went for about one month until the pastor and his baby were killed in a car crash.  I invited Jim to join Boy Scouts with me and he did.  We were two of seven boys who ended up starting a new troop, #456, at So. Lake Tahoe.  I taught him about sex and we became sex-playmates on sleep over nights but never did anything together during scout campouts.  He ended up going to live with his aunt and, according to him, began to really enjoy sex with his female cousin.

          Gym³

          As you may have guessed, gym³ is really Jim #2.  Jim Dunn was the son of a California highway patrolman and joined my scout troop when he was 12 and I was 14.  He was taller than most boys his age and matched my height of 5' 11”.  His hair was blondish and eyes a very nice shade of blue.  I liked him for his looks and gentle personality.  Strangely, I was never sexually attracted to him probably because he did not look “interested”.  I was so naïve about that stuff. 

          As we aged and moved into Explorer Scouts, we shared a couple of experiences that should have tipped me off that he was interested in boy sex play, but I never caught on.  As an adult, I learned that he died early from AIDS.

          That's all of my “gym” memories. 

© 24 Oct 2011 

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

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.