Each year, as soon as we’ve finished stuffing ourselves with stuffing on Thanksgiving, there’s a refrain you can hear uttered at ChezNaked if you listen closely enough. No, it isn’t the oof of having enjoyed just one too many bites of pumpkin pie (or in DearSweetDave’s case perhaps even one too many whole pies, that man loves pumpkin pie) or even the grumble of stomachs that are doing their best to digest a mixture of sauerkraut and cranberries. It is me saying, “Oh fuck. It’s the holiday train again!”
DearSweetDave and I happen to live on one of the only streets in the entire United States where a train, a real live train with people waving from the windows, goes choo choo chooing by our very uncovered windows on a very regular basis. The train is a very popular attraction here in our little hamlet by the sea and it carries tourists back and forth from the boardwalk to the redwoods in Felton where folks can wander around and take a look at those majestic trees that they certainly don’t have back home in Nebraska.
As soon as the Thanksgiving turkeys are stuffed, the folks who operate the train take that as their clue to slap some twinkle lights on it, stock it full of hot chocolate and apple cider, get Santa to hop on board and blast all the Christmas carols you never knew you knew. Yes, even that one. Then they give rides at night! Because what use would all those twinkle lights be during the day? So each night the train goes back and forth and forth and back in front of our house chock full of folks singing and waving and waving and singing and peeking in our windows to make sure that we’re having a happy holiday, too.
It really is quite a spectacle. Our friends who happen to come over for dinner or a game of cards or to celebrate DearSweetDave’s birthday and get to witness the holiday train can’t help but jump up from the table every time and run outside to wave and holler and sing right back. Grown men turn into five year olds who think that Santa himself is finally going to bring them that erector set and cap guns they begged for all those years ago. The women squeal with joy at the faces of the little children who squeal back at them as they wave and shout Merry Christmas.
It’s a Holly Jolly Christmas, indeed.
I really want to go out and wave to the folks on the train as Nakedjen. To stand naked on the corner and wave and shout Merry Christmas. I don’t think I ever will do this, however. Here is why I’m censoring myself.
The tourists who purchased a ticket on that holiday train to the redwoods can really be divided into three categories.
Those that will notice that I am naked and be offended.
Those that will notice that I am naked and who will not care.
Those who will not notice at all.
The train is mostly filled with families with their small children. Mothers and fathers who want to give their kids a bit of magic during the Christmas season. The kids’ ages are generally under 10. There are also some grandparents thrown into the mix and of course there are a few teenagers and young couples along for the ride. I imagine there are even a few people who look upon that caroling train as a respite from the regular hustle and bustle of the every day holiday madness.
Any of these folks could fall into any of those three categories. I’m guessing, though, that should the train come up the street and those folks were to actually see me standing on the corner outside my house waving to them and wishing them a Merry Christmas, that the moms and pops with the kids are going to be the ones who are most mortified and who will be jumping to hide their children’s eyes.
The kids? I’m not sure the kids would really even notice. Well, they would notice, but I don’t believe they would be offended. I know they would ask why that lady was standing there naked?! But offended? Unless they’ve already been taught to be ashamed of their very own beautiful bodies, no. Not offended.
The teen-age boys? They’ll notice and hoot and holler. The teen-age girls? They’ll also notice and giggle in complete and utter embarrassment. Or not have any reaction at all other than a jaw dropped so wide that you could actually drive the entire Christmas train right through the gaping hole where their smile should be.
As for grandma and grandpa, well, it will be tough to predict. It all depends on how they feel about their own bodies, really. And nudity. They’ll either look at me as a woman who is exposing herself and should be arrested, or as a woman who is exposing herself and should be applauded or as a woman who is just standing there naked and someone should go find her a coat because it’s damn cold outside!
We’ll never really know, though. I’m not going to get naked and wave to the holiday train. Because while I am about being naked in public and even sometimes shocking people with my nakedness in public venues, I am not, ever, about putting parents in a position where they feel it is necessary to cover their children’s eyes or make excuses for the naked lady on the street corner.
It is very true that one of my biggest wishes for this world is that each and every person can embrace their bodies, love their bodies, and be comfortable in the skin in which they walk this planet. I want all children to be given the gift of utter joy in their bodies and of experiencing no shame when they look in the mirror. However, I will leave those lessons to their own parents.
I will just get naked for all of you. And wave. And wave. And wave.
