Back from Almost Heaven; Colorado

Le & Betty,

Greetings and thanks for the nice gift that I received in the mail from you this week. At this time last week I was descending from the blue skies and mountains surrounding Denver and on the way back to Denver International Airport for the wilds of Columbus, Ohio. Boy am I glad to be home (LOL).

I went to Denver for the forty-fifth anniversary of Eden Theatrical Workshop, a company that was founded in 1963 by my grandmother, Myrtle Scales and Lucy Walker, for the development of the minority acting community. I played at several high profile venues in the area; Wells Fargo Bank, Manual Training High School and the Pine Valley Golf Club.

But my companion, Christine, and I mainly got away to relax from the grind of six busy months of composing, recording, performing, authoring and promoting. The Queen Anne Inn and Mountain Air Ranch were perfect homes for our six days away.

We spent one afternoon in Colorado Springs, where our former governor Dick Celeste is president of Colorado College, founded in 1874. Outside of his office is a bust of Kathrine Lee Bates, the educator and poet who after a visit to Pike's Peak was inspired to the poem, "Oh beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain." Dick gave us the ten dollar tour of his growing campus and was like a proud papa. He is a great fit for the job.

At Mountain Air Ranch, we rented a lodge with three bedrooms, a huge kitchen, fireplace, a pool, hot tub and extensive hiking trails. We spent mornings on our deck reading, eating healthy, maxing and relaxing. We put on our rugged footwear and walk on trails that climbed onto lookout points, where we gazed onto treelined peaks; almost heaven.

When the day of our flight home came, I was so lethargic, I couldn't find the switch that would return to me fast forward mode. But we finally got it together and returned to Denver International and home to a windstorm disaster in Central Ohio.

The Superbowl of Nude Volleyball

I wanted to share with my favorite nude resort experience; The Superbowl of Nude Volleyball at White Thorn Lodge (WTL) in Darlington, PA. Since 1971, Superbowl has been held each year on the weekend following Labor Day, however many volleyball animals cruise into the area, between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, before the holiday and let the good times roll for two straight weekends.
WTL is a member owned, family nudist resort and is very deep in the forests that bridge Pennsylvania and Ohio, in the watershed north of the Ohio River. It is a three hour drive for our volleyball gang from Columbus, though communities that urban folk and suburbanites have never heard; Lisbon, Rogers, Negley, Calcutta. But the drive is just long for us to wind down from our go-go, city ways and be maxxed and relaxed when we arrive at the check-in gate.
It costs fifty dollars for the weekend, upwards to two thousand athletes and family members pack themselves into the large campground that has a clubhouse, heated pool, gazebo-covered hot tub, bocce court, children's playground, rental cabins and snack bar. The players of all skill levels compete on four grass, two sand, three asphalt courts and the South Beaver Volunteer Fire Department is in attendance to "oversee" the players injuries. The uniformed volunteers, a welcome part of this unique community, also sell raffle tickets for prizes, including riding mowers and gardening equipment, to fund the local emergency services operations.
For me the weekend is the unofficial end of summer and since 2003, I have been making new friends from all over North America. Ontario and Quebec, Canada sends the six-time champion Bare Naked Ladies, featuring a woman who is rumored to be a member of the Polish Olympic team some decades back. Lake Como and Caliente send championship teams from Pasco County, Florida; the California players fly into Cleveland, throw their camping gear into rental cars and rough it for a week.
I love to rendezvous with the Chili Peppers from Buffalo, who cook for a week before the event and arrive with a hundred pounds of chili that keeps us in spicy conversation between games. It is so invigorating to see brown, healthy bodies working out in the sun, celebrating the freedom of our natural beauty in sport.
Of course, many of us don't play due to Father Time catching up to the conditions of our joints and ligaments, but club members and non-players are scorekeepers, cooks, trash collectors, yoga participants, musicians, kids games and arts are is session. Why, some folks just work on their tans, because usually after Superbowl, us folks in the Midwest, East and Canada are done with the sun.
When the sun goes down, the firepit gets stoked up, televisons are found for the late football games and a local band or disc jockey fills the clubhouse for the dance. There is a whole lotta' shakin' goin' on too, as well as elbow bending. Many clubs are represented and themed parties celebrate homebrews, martinis, jello shots, Bailey's Irish Creme; I'm sure there are Jamaica celebrations of a sort being fire-up in the deep woods around a fire-pit.
But the reason for our convention is tournament volleyball and Sunday is finals day; each team has one last chance to keep playing for the trophies. By the late afternoon, the focus is the AA classes; the best women's teams seem to be on a level that would rival Olympic play and there will be thousands of eyes watching the ball mysteriously stay within bounds and off the ground. The beautiful Canadian women deserve to carry off the trophy year after year because they play so well; forget that they look so good outta' their uniforms.
In 2006 the Canadian men were in the finals against a great Florida team in afro wigs and kneesox and after one of their huddles, the northerners broke, singing the opening of their national anthem, "Oh Canada..." Soon, a couple of smarties in the boundaries began the chant, "USA, USA!" The national war began and grew with every point in the five game series. The Canadians won the match and the war, but you can image the fever and good humor that grew among a couple thousand naked, sports fans, who don't want the weekend or summer to end.
The Superbowl of Nude Volleyball is a hoot and one year you should put it on your travel schedule. It is not the artistic flamboyance of Burning Man, but it is a celebration that burns quite brightly in my soul.
http://www.whitethornlodge.org/