A Modern Family Goes on Vacation, and Leaves Their Clothes Behind
I had the tricky task of planning a New Year’s trip with my lesbian partner, my nine-year-old son, and his father. Who would have guessed a nudist retreat was the perfect fit?
Illustrations by George Mager
It’s not like we went looking for the naked place. I just wanted my family to be safe on New Year’s Eve 1999. Some thought the world would end. Some feared the Y2K computer virus shutting down global computer systems. Some just wanted the giant party Prince had promised in his overplayed song. Personally, I feared people going nuts amidst expectations like those, so I suggested that our family go camping — away from the city.
Around October, my partner Katie and I took a weekend RV ride to scout the right camping spot for the New Year’s trip, which would include the two of us, my nine-year-old son Caleb, his dad, Richard, and our friend Joni.
From San Diego, we headed east. First, we stayed at a big RV park in the Coachella Valley. It had beautiful desert landscaping and four big pools. We were the youngest people there by about thirty years. They were nice folks, and it didn’t feel like the right place for our family celebration. The next day, we drove by S…