Age 11 . . .
Sent to Live in a Foster Home
in Canoga Park during World War II
I Found a "Sunshine & Health " Magazine.
I was eleven when my mother sent me to live with a woman in Canoga Park, who took in kids of
working wives, most of whose husbands were off fighting in World War II. My mom was working full time and had just split with her third husband. We had rented a no-frills one-room apartment near the corner of Santa Monica Blvd. and Vermont Ave. in Los Angeles, and she didn't want me to be a latch-key kid after school.
The foster-parent, Joan, had a 3-bedroom house and an out-building that was really just a cement patio with screened walls and a corrugated metal roof.
This is where we boys had our bunks, along with a wooden picnic table and a couple of benches.
An 18-year-old girl was also one of Joan's charges. Her name was Ronda, and I sort of fell in love with her.
I don't know if Joan was divorced or widowed, but her foster-care of some pre-pubescent boys and Ronda apparently provided enough income to maintain the place.
Joan also had a couple of dogs of indeterminate breed, three or four cats, and a goat. I remember the goat because one day he spotted me looking down a hill into a gully, rammed me in the rear, and caused me to tumble all the way down into the gully. I never turned my back on him again.
The day my mom brought me there we were greeted by Joan on the front porch and invited into the house to formalize the arrangements. I never saw the inside of the house again. Joan served all our inside the screened patio, which we were made to understand was our "official residence." There were a couple of out-houses and a small wooden building that enclosed a shower stall and a wash basin. We quickly learned what it meant to live outdoors.
The San Fernando Valley gets pretty hot in the summer, so there was no need for a heating system in our "dormitory." I was only there one summer, and still have no idea of what kind of heating Joan provided in the winter.
Ronda got to live in the house. Joan explained that, as the only girl on the premises, Ronda certainly wouldn't be expected to live in a screened patio with nine or ten boys.
None of us saw this as a problem—we all liked Ronda. We boys were at an age when we had begun to notice that girls were different, and having one around who had what appeared to be a fully-matured female body made being in her presence kind of erotic. At least, that's how she affected me.
I think I was the oldest of the guys, by a couple of months or so. In any case, Ronda seemed to view me as being "more mature" than the others and often sought me out as a conversation partner. I found this very flattering, and quickly discovered that I enjoyed being with her. I also found our time together to be strangely arousing.
One day I was out hiking in the hills with one of the dogs when I spotted a magazine laying on the ground. Strange place for a magazine, I remember thinking, since one rarely saw any other people on these "back country" trails. To my astonished and pleased surprise, the magazine turned out to be the current issue of "Sunshine & Health," a nudist periodical. I sat down on a rock and spent the next hour looking at all the photos that let everything hang out and left nothing to the imagination.
After looking at each picture—well, each picture featuring females—for probably 100 times, I could hardly wait to get back and show the magazine to the other guys.
Wait a minute, I thought—why would I want to show the magazine to them? They'd probably fight over it and destroy it in the process. I decided I would only show it to Ronda.
Keeping the magazine hidden was a major challenge, since my hiking attire consisted of Keds, a T-shirt, and khaki shorts. I stuffed the magazine under the T-shirt and moved it to one side where my arm succeeded in keeping it from being spotted. First chance I got, I slipped it under the mattress on my cot.
I had no idea how Ronda would respond to my showing her the magazine, but I was determined to try. The challenge, of course, was getting her alone where I could do so.
Well, it was three or four days before the right moment came. We were walking through the orchard, picking some apples to munch on. I didn't dare carry the magazine with me—it would have been too easy to spot by the others. I had decided to tell Ronda about it, and then ask if she wanted to see it. However, I found that gathering the courage to do so was not nearly as easy as gathering fruit.
Finally, I looked around to assure myself nobody was within range of our voices.
"I found a magazine the other day, Ronda, while I was out hiking."
"Really," she smiled, "what kind of a magazine?"
"Have you ever heard of Sunshine & Health?"
"No, I haven't. What kind of a magazine is it?"
"Uh—one that shows people being out in the sunshine."
"So it's about exercising outdoors?"
"Well, it does have some pictures of people playing volleyball."
"And what else?"
"Well, there are lots of pictures and all the people in them are naked."
Now she gave me a strange look and said, "Are you sure? Everybody is naked?"
"Yes."
"So they must all be young children."
"Well, there are some kids of various ages—but mostly grown-ups."
"Grown-ups? So—they are all men—or all women?"
"No, men and women. Some are married—families with children. But some are single—it says so under the pictures."
"Wow! Is it some kind of an illegal dirty magazine?"
"No, it looks like a regular magazine—only everybody is naked."
 "And you only see them—what—from the rear, or standing behind a bush?"
"No. Really—nothing is hidden."
"No kidding? Wow, I've never seen a magazine like that. I wonder where it came from."
Then she gave me sly smile and said, "So you saw pictures of naked women—showing everything?"
"Yes." By now, I had become quite nervous and had begun to wonder if telling Ronda about the magazine was such a good idea.
Still smiling, she asked, "So how did you like looking at those pictures? How did they make you feel?"
 Well, I certainly knew how they made me feel, but was kind of afraid to tell Ronda.
"I have the magazine under my mattress. Why don't you look at it and tell me what you think of it?"
"Okay," she said. "Go get it."
"Well, what if somebody sees me with it—and sees me coming back to the orchard?"
"Tell you what—I'll go with you. I'll stop by the house and get my purse. I'm sure I can carry it in my purse without anyone seeing me put it there."
"Okay," I replied, "let's go."
As we walked up the hill I had fantasies of Ronda saying, "Well, now that you know what big girls look like, I'll let you see what I look like."
But then I was afraid she'd want to see what I looked like—and was not quite sure how I felt about that—yet."
In any case, it was a moot point, since there was no way we could be alone to do any "showing."
Well, our little cloak and dagger routine of getting the magazine out of the dorm worked fine. In fact, all the other boys seemed to have disappeared. It was not uncommon for them to take a hike in the middle of the day, and Joan preferred having them go in a group. She always seemed a little uncertain about my preference to hike alone, but allowed it as long as at least one dog was with me.
Ronda and I went back down to the orchard and found a large rock on which we could sit side-by-side. She took the magazine out of her purse and began leafing through its pages. "Oh, my," she said, as her eyes widened. "It's exactly as you said. It looks like these people belong to some kind of a club where everyone goes around naked—a nudist club."
"Do they actually have clubs like that?" I asked.
"Well, on this page they list the names and locations of several "nudist parks."
Then Ronda turned to me with a smile and said, "Have you ever seen a woman naked before—or a picture of one—before this magazine, I mean?"
"Well, I've seen some "pinups" in a couple of Esquire magazines in a barber shop. But those ladies don't look quite like the ones here."
"Oh—how were they different?"
"Well, the Esquire ladies don't have any—uh—any weeds showing."
"Weeds?"
"Well, you know—hair." Finally, I just pointed to what I was talking about.
Ronda laughed. "Oh, you mean pubic hair."
"I guess so. Is that what it's called?"
"Yes, and I know they leave it off the pinup paintings—as if the models had been shaved."
"Okay," I said, becoming more uncomfortable by the minute.
"So you've never seen a girl my age naked?"
"No."
"Would you like to?"
I kind of choked up, trying to answer, and was sure I was red as a beet with embarrassment.
"Well, I guess all boys want to do that sooner or later," I mumbled.
"I've seen my brother naked," she said. "He's in the army now. Once we took a shower together."
"You did—together? How old were you?"
"Fifteen—it was about a year ago."
"So you did what—you took the shower back-to-back?"
"Well, we washed each others' backs—but we could see everything."
"Oh, okay—but no big deal then. He's your brother."
"Well, he's still a boy," Ronda replied, seeming somewhat annoyed that I didn't see this as the same titillating experience she apparently did.
Actually, I did view it as being quite titallating—and I was always anxious to please Ronda—so I said, "Yeah, I guess that would be kind of—uh—exciting."
"Well, it was certainly educational. I'd seen pictures of naked guys before, but standing right next to one was a lot different than seeing a picture. And I could tell he found it interesting, too, because his—well, you know—stopped hanging straight down."
Well, mine was standing straight out—and I squirmed around, trying to find a way of sitting on the rock that would hide my little secret from Ronda. But I think she knew. She glanced down once, and then smiled at me—but didn't say anything.
"So what are you going to do with the magazine—show it to the other boys?"
"No. They would probably make a big fuss over it, and Joan would find out—and we might all be in trouble."
Ronda gave me another smile and said, "Good idea. But I'm glad you showed it to me. Thank you."
Then she gave me a kiss on the forehead and said, "And some of those pictures might just give us a few new things to talk about—and maybe even something to show each other some day."
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