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The first Playboys I got to really enjoy (not some hurried glance off the Git-n-Go shelves), were from this preacher's kid named Phillip Bickford. He had taken them from the house of his recently deceased Uncle who'd been hit by lightning working construction. I felt guilty that we were perusing a dead man's stack of nudies, but Phillip said to get over it. He made the analogy of Christ dying so that others could live. Phillip had a minister's son's sense of humor. But some things just stick with you. Maybe it was the amazement of seeing my first centerfold, or Phillip invoking Jesus -- whatever it was, to this day whenever I see a lightning strike, I immediately associate it with beautiful, naked women... nailed to crosses. (30 x 30 acrylic, oil stick, tempera on board Private collection of Mr. Rob and Leslie Grdic) |
Monday, May 23, 2011
White Bread
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The first nudie mags I ever saw were stashed under a shed in my friend's back yard. I felt bad because I hadn't reached puberty and I could tell I wasn't enjoying them the way my friend was.
ReplyDeleteAfter reaching puberty, I found a nudie mag in a ditch by the side of the road. It was a "Oui," pronounced oh-you-I in Oklahoma. I stashed it in the woods by my house and would periodically visit it until the rain faded it away. I scoured that ditch for years afterward, hoping for more discarded wonders. They never came.