Crazy Old Man

It was a fine Saturday afternoon in July last year, and many people were canoeing or tubing on the Skunk River. I was sunbathing on a bank where I could see who was coming. When families or all-female groups approached, I tossed my tee-shirt loosely over my butt—enough to avoid offense but not to conceal the fact I was naked. For all-male or mixed college-age groups, I didn’t bother covering up, and nobody complained.

I was splashing about in the water as a large flotilla drew near, and I thought it best not to expose myself to this group. I rested against a log, keeping my lower body below the waterline as they floated past.

The last canoe held two young men, lagging a little behind their friends. We exchanged pleasantries about how this was a good day to be out on the river. One of them said to me as I was still sitting down near the shore, “I bet that water feels good.”

I replied, “It sure does, especially with nothing on.”

He quickly asked, “Are you nude?”

“Yup,” I replied. “It’s the best way to swim.”

He called out, “You crazy old man!” as they drifted downstream.

Ha! If they only knew, this is what keeps me young.