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Tony Lawrence: Thanksgiving

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There are five turkeys roasting just a step away from where I stand on my deck. The wind is shifting, fairly strong and cool this October weekend, and when it blows the turkey smells toward me, my stomach growls. From within our trailer is the more subtle smell of squash slowly warming, and in every other trailer around me, something is cooking. Potatoes, onions, stuffing; no matter which way the wind blows, it brings the smell of food. This is Renaissance Thanksgiving Weekend.

I'm told that normally this event would coincide with the official Fall closing, but due to some mistake, the camp will actually be officially open one more weekend. It's getting cold in New England; October sometimes brings us a few pleasant surprises, but today the sun cannot quite overcome the cool winds. I'd like to be nude, but common sense has made me put on a thick cotton T-shirt and gym pants.

As this is our first year as resident members, we have never been here this late in the season before. Driving three hours to day trip at a cold October nudist resort has never seemed attractive to us. But now, with a warm trailer to come back to, we will stick it out to the bitter end.

I had joked about that with the owners, saying that they would have to force us to leave. Ginny knew that I was kidding, but Dan seemed unsure. Dan is an awfully nice guy, and he must have a sense of humor (could non-nudists own a nudist camp without having a sense of humor?), but he often misses my off the wall jibes. A few weeks earlier he had new electrical service run to our area, which had eliminated the constant annoyance of electric heaters tripping circuit breakers. Dan had asked me how I liked the new service, and I had replied "It's great, but the electricity is a little bit lumpy now". I'm not sure if he thought there was such a thing as lumpy electricity, but he was immediately concerned that something was wrong, and I had to reassure him that there really was no problem. You sure can't fault him for caring.

Dan and Ginny have donated the turkeys, in fact, and have given over the club house/restaurant to this celebration. Thanksgiving in October has been a tradition here for many years before they bought it, and it's more than nice that they are willing to both continue it and contribute to it.

Our contribution is to be squash. Before driving up here, I had accomplished the brute force part of that: cutting up a half dozen large squashes is tough work. Linda provides the intelligent part: seasoning and cooking. This is an equitable division of responsibility, though I may be called on again as a taster. I can handle that.

What I cannot handle well is the waiting. Next door, those who are tending the various turkeys are convinced that all the birds are near to done. It will soon be time to pack them into the back of a van and drive up to the clubhouse. The offerings from the trailers will mostly be carried up by hand, a parade of food bearing nudists will make their way toward the site of the feast.

And it is a feast. The cool October winds have not stopped very many nudists from being here for this. Technically, of course, few of us are actually nude, and those who are can't stay that way for long. But just about all the members of Renaissance are here, jostling for a place to sit, complimenting each other on the various foods and desserts.

The turkeys have been cooked to perfection. Different spices on each one give individuality, and there are the same variations in the potatoes, the stuffings, and, of course, the pies.

It is all too much. Linda and I are never big eaters, but we simply have to sample everything. Everyone else has the same problem, of course, but only the most accomplished of eaters could really do it all. We try, and end up with aching stomachs. It's a common complaint, though never quite voiced with any hint that stomachs should not be hurting. Just part of what you get. Expected. Normal. Ignore it. Eat some more.

The tryptophan in the turkey has the normal effect; Linda and I would really like to roll back to our trailer and take a nap. But there is just too much excitement, too much happy chatter. We stifle our yawns and enjoy our first Renaissance Thanksgiving.


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