That eventful day started off like any other day, with a kiss good-bye and a “be careful”, he was a carpenter after all.
Our marriage started out pretty much as most newly wedded couples do with the exception of a horde of children. Busy days of working, cleaning cooking, paying the bills. My husband career choice was building houses, it was his passion. It paid the bills and he enjoyed working with wood. This was in the early 2000’s and we were in our early thirties. Not thinking much about the future only living for the day and feeding hungry children.
That eventful day started off like any other day, with a kiss good-bye and a “be careful”, he was a carpenter after all. I went about my daily routine of cooking and cleaning until… the phone rang. It was his business partner, Bobby. I knew something was wrong by the sound of his voice. It was quaking, he sounded like he was going to cry. Then he told me, “The building collapsed, Bill is hurt!”. I think that’s what he said, I blanked out at that point. All I knew was my newly wed husband was being air lifted to the nearest trauma unit in Atlanta.
Bobby tried to explain the best he could, “The storm from the previous night torqued the building’s frame out of position”, “We were trying to straighten the frame and the trusses (roofing frame) broke from under Bill’s feet. He fell 16 feet to the concrete and the rest of the build fell on top of him”. “I thought I killed him!”
As soon as Bobby could get to the house, we drove to Atlanta. Bill was is pretty bad shape. Eleven broken ribs, broken collar-bone, twelve stitches to the head. I never once thought how I was going to take care of him, only how I was to get him home. I thought I would have a day or two to figure that one out, but silly me, this is Bill we are talking about.
As Bobby and I were driving to Atlanta, Bill and the Doctor had made an agreement. Bill wanted to go home and the Doctor wanted him to stay. The Doctor told Bill if he could walk to the counter and check himself out he could go home. Well…that’s exactly what he did. After bumming a cigarette from the nurse on duty, having a brief smoke, he dragged his butt back into the hospital. The orderlies poured him back into the bed. That’s my husband. Is he a Titan? I think he would have made a good one.
Juiced up on more morphine then most people could possibly handle, he waited for us to bring him home. I was utterly surprised when the hospital released him. I had no clue how I was going to take care of 6 foot 3 inch, 225 lb man with a ba-gillion broken bones. This was the start of our new life together. This was our first challenge. Could we handle it, would our marriage make it? I had to make sure he would survive his injuries now and those to come.
I researched secluded camp grounds in North Georgia and there I found, Belle Acres Resort, a camping resort for nudists!
Our First Experience Camping…Going Nude.
In my last post A Start to a Healthy Relastionship I ended my memories with possible ideas for a honeymoon spot. We were both married before and we were looking for a new experience, something totally different. We both liked the idea of a mountain retreat and camping. How could we create an exceptional memory that was unique, memories we would never forget.
I researched secluded camp grounds in North Georgia and there it was, Belle Acres Resort, a camping resort for nudist! Ok, this piqued my curiosity. How many people did I know could say they spent their honeymoon with nudists? I loved the idea. However, it took a little more effort to convince my husband to forgo his clothes and enjoy the forest, naked.
We had all sorts of misconceptions of what we would find when we got there. Would people stare, would we feel awkward or would there be unwanted attention? None of those things happened. I will admit it took a six-pack on the drive up ( I drove) for my husband to calm his nerves before we checked in. We were greeted with the most gracious hospitality we could have expected. The owners made us feel so welcome and at ease. They were tickled that we chose their piece of heaven to spend our honeymoon. They nick-named us the “honeymooners”.
It took me no time at all to strip my clothes and enjoy all that camp grounds had to offer. Bill, well…he took his time. I will never forget the image of my husband dressed only in flip-flops, a towel around his neck and a cooler in hand. Or course there was a six-pack of ever calming liquid hidden in that box. We were making our way to the community pool.
This is where all our preconceived notions of what we would find became unwarranted. We were greeted by other camp guest with warm welcomes and the utmost respect. Never once did we feel uncomfortable in the presence of other nudists. No one starred or gawked at us. Holding a conversation, there was direct eye contact, no wandering over body parts, it was not what I expected. We were both pleasantly surprised. How many people can say they played pool naked?
If you’re wondering about the facilities, well it was almost 18 years ago. At that time there was a huge community pool, activity center ( with pool table), and the largest hot tub I have ever seen. While preparing to write this post, I went back to Belle Acres Resort’s web site and was pleasantly surprised that the owners have made many great upgrades to the grounds. It looks great, makes me wanna go back and experience my memories all over again.
So would I do it again, yes. Would I recommend others to try the nudist lifestyle, sure. Don’t be timid or shy. It’s totally natural and invigorating. An experience I wouldn’t trade for anything in this world.
I remember many evening discussions with my husband contemplating selling our 1996 Ford 250 4×4. Did we really need her? She was a beast of a truck, 7.5 liter 460 engine. Need I say terrible gas mileage but could pull a house down. She could haul anything. We bought her when we were living in Northern Michigan, out in the sticks. Hauling wood was a necessity, two cords of wood at a time, no problem. Collecting water at the local spring, no issues. Plowing through snow in four-wheel drive, easy squeasy. I loved her. She was my truck. She was dependable and safe, just a gas hog.
After deciding to go back on the road in camper style, I knew we couldn’t keep her. Oh, she could pull the biggest camper we could afford, but she would run us broke keeping her in fuel. We had to look for a motor home that would do the job.
When we decided to put her up for sale, we really didn’t try very hard, a couple of adds here and there on Facebook was about it. We never even put a ‘For Sale’ sign in the window. She sold none the less.
I don’t believe in coincidences, I have always believed events happen for a reason. Selling of Big Jane was one of those events. The day she was sold, my husband and I decided to try to sell an antique dresser at a local dealer. The dresser sold and the delivery man can and picked it up. He was a nice, young fella who wanted to know our story so we told him the plan. Big Jane came up in the conversation and “Bingo” he had a friend who he knew would be interested in the truck. Later that evening he came back with his friend and sealed the deal. Not much effort on our part, just honest conversation and a positive outlook on our plan.
It was hard seeing her being driven away but I knew she was in good hands. A new owner who had great plans for her. Thanks Tony for the sale and hope you have many good years and memories from our, “Big Jane”.