• Fred R. Kline

"Sunny Acres"

FRK-3.3.2019-Notes for a Memoir "Sunny Acres" Copyright © Fred R. Kline 2019


I was a kid in San Antonio in the 1940s and 50s, a sleepy cowtown of 300,000, gigantic compared to most Texas cities, and sexually repressed from my earliest observations. Land wild and beautiful and desolate surrounded in every direction; on a city boy’s map, nothing less than terra incognita. I thought about the explorer’s life and daydreamed a lot about sex.

There was a nudist camp in this unknown countryside, a little known fact hidden in rare nudist magazines which could only be found in one shop that sold forbidden magazines only to adults. Somehow, I was allowed to browse the pages and I saved up and bought one for a high price. Photographs, arousing even with genital areas carefully airbrushed away, made me lust for this lost Garden of Eden. My idea of exploring, I have to say again, was obsessively erotic. I was determined to discover sex and what better place than a nudist camp where free love had to be waiting.


I was about 14, and driving. With a friend I set out to find this New World populated with naked pinup girls laughing and frolicking in nature. I knew at first we might play volleyball, the favorite game in nudist camps.


As we drove the fantasy grew and pushed us on. After many hours and miles, many turns down roads to nowhere, I found it. A little sign said “Sunny Acres”.



I parked the car. We climbed through the loose wire fence and stalked into the brush like Indians on the hunt. We came to a little hill and stopped to look around. I had binoculars. There was a simple house in the distance being framed-up and you could hear hammering. We crept closer, still well hidden.

Finally I focused on a stark naked skinny old man with wrinkled brown skin and a nail pouch tied to his waist that covered his private parts and he was wearing shoes and holding a hammer. Not exactly a pretty sight.


We waited for hours and searched in every direction with the binoculars. Shimmering heat-mirages in shapely forms rose from the land. Fleeting shadows passed sensuously among the trees.


The naked pinup girls did not appear. There was only the naked old man hammering and hammering and hammering in the hot summer afternoon.

I remember this because I was so greatly disappointed.

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