My teenage sons are horrified at my tradition of posting naked photos on my blog. No matter how much I protest that the nude shots are incredibly tasteful and discreet, they say things like, "My eyes are STILL burning. I'm not reading your blog anymore." One male extra claims he's going to have to go therapy someday to talk about the time he glanced at my blog and saw a naked photo of me. And that's a kid not even related to me. I hate to think how much my sons will have to pay for therapy.
But Tie-dye Brother-in-law, a faithful reader of my blog, has said that he would happily pose naked. Because, you know, he's got all kinds of respect for tradition.
Last week, I decided to test that great respect for tradition.
We had all traveled by boat to an island out on the river, where we like to swim. It's a pretty public spot, just across from a state park jammed with campers up for the Fourth of July weekend, the busiest tourist weekend of the summer, and in full view of the channel, where motorboats zoom up and down in the deep water. His two kids, Suburban Nephew and Dandelion Niece, had already expressed their views on the matter of naked blogging photos. My nephew shuddered in horror and disappeared with With-a-Why to a different part of the island, while Dandelion Niece took the route of completing disowning her father. "You'll be UNCLE Tie-dye to me from now on."
We were standing on the highest point of the island, looking out at family members happily swimming and washing their hair in the cold river water, fishing boats anchored in shallow areas, and speedboats going past, filled with tourists. I said to Tie-dye Brother-in-law, "Oh, here's a good spot for a photo. Jump off the rock naked and I'll take your picture."
Without hesitation, he stripped off his bathing suit, tossed it on the rock, and leapt into the cold river water below.
(Readers who want to know the history of the naked photo tradition can check it out here and here and here and here and here.)