Although I was too young to attend Woodstock, I was influenced by the radical change of mores prevelant at that time. Nudity was becoming more acceptable. Modesty still existed, but many of us were shedding our clothes and provincial skins. When I went to college in Upstate New York, skinny dipping in the mountains’ rivers or natural pools was commonplace. We would sun ourselves on large, smooth rocks, chat, snack, and walk about, unashamed, by the water’s edge.

Ten or so years later, I was invited to stay with a friend of a friend while visiting the Boston area. We had met a few times. He was a gracious host, offering to show me the town. We engaged in lively conversation at dinner. When I came from my room the following morning to join him for breakfast, he was seated at the table, greeted me warmly, and invited me to partake in the meal he had prepared. He was at all times polite, cordial, respectful, and pleasant.

My attention to the quality of the jam, bread, and lovely fare diminished however when I noticed that beyond his bare chest, every other part of his body was also bare.

I hadn’t shed my provincial skin after all.