Late Saturday Morning

Howard and Paul decided their first business of the day was setting up a table. Eventually it was filled-to-overflowing with egg dishes, bacon, ham, sausage links and patties, toast with butter and jam, pancakes and waffles. The other men worked in shifts. Several would start out at the table, eating a small plateful of breakfast goodness, while others pulled chairs and passed them out to the men who set them up. After about ten minutes, everyone shifted. As more men arrived, they joined a team that needed an extra pair of hands, or replaced one en masse. In less than an hour, 200 chairs were brought out of storage, unfolded and placed, and 30 naked men were finishing off the last of the breakfast buffet. Dishes were scraped, extra food was covered to be eaten later, the table wiped clean, and placed at the head of the room just as the first of the board members arrived in time for the 8:30am start.

The very first board member, of course, was the Chairman, John Hamilton, leading his nephew Wayne. John helped him find a seat over at the side. While his nephew was technically his Special Advisor to the Board for Handicapped Affairs, John always figured he would be more comfortable out of the spotlight of the head table.

Wayne, or rather Deuce as he preferred to be called, didn’t care much where he sat, as long as he had some good food to eat, something cold to drink, and somebody to chat with while all the other members followed their Robert’s Rules of Order. As far as he knew, he was the only ‘handicapped’ individual on the premises, and since he was born with no eyes, didn’t feel that he was actually handicapped at all. He very much adhered to the adage ‘You can’t miss what you never had!’ So, he never ‘saw’ his Anophthalmia as a handicap.

Gunnar and Frejdis came in next. While Frejdis set her notebook down, and took a seat closer to the end of the table, Gunnar sat down next to John near the middle. They began discussing the increasing rates of sun burns, melanoma diagnosis, and heat exhaustion, and what they could do about prevention. Gunnar assured John that he had it all under control. After they talked, Gunnar moved back toward the end of the table next to Frejdis.

Stacy Sterling, the Treasurer, took the seat vacated by Gunnar, and the rest of the Board members began to file in. Only one seat remained empty, that of Mrs. Faye Terlinger. While she was not the oldest member, Mrs. Faye was the most experienced member on the board, having held almost every chair at least twice during her years here at Magnolia and Moss, including the Chairmanship, an unprecedented three times in a row.

From 8:30, when the gavel came down, the Board held their own meeting, finalizing issues regarding the treasury, prioritizing Old Business/New Business, and any additional issues requiring the membership’s attention. One of the issues happened to be the hiring of Paul Thompson.

George and Martha sat down next to Paul. Howard sat on the other side of Paul, on the far end away from the table, next to Deuce. Martha had the office cell phone in her hand, set to vibrate, in case there was any business or visitors that needed taking care of during the meeting. Paul noticed that he seemed to be getting a lot of attention from several of the Board members, looking at him, and then putting their heads together in hushed conversation. Nobody in the room could hear them, even those men who stayed and took seats up front. Frejdis watched, hearing what she could from the end of the table, saw the concerned look on Paul’s face and gave him a smile and a thumb’s up. At one point, several hands went up, all but Chairman Hamilton’s. He didn’t look happy, but grudgingly acquiesced and nodded his head.

The gavel came down again, and John Hamilton addressed the staff. “Okay, Mister Thompson. It seems that the position that you have been hired for is confirmed. But not unanimously.” He picked up several pieces of paper, resembling the resume and forms Paul filled out at the beginning of the week. John Hamilton continued.

“What happens, sir, when you finish your studies, in, what is it,” looking at one of the papers, “Botanical Sciences? You’ll probably be offered a position as a junior staffer on some God-awful science project, researching the vagaries of growing lettuce in rabbit poop versus mouse manure. Or determining the nutritional value of Kale Ale, or something to that effect.” Several of the men upfront laughed out loud. John Hamilton always told it like it was, but had a way of spinning it to laughable proportions.

“What I’m trying to explain to you, young man, is that I believe you to be far too over-qualified for the position of Assistant Groundskeeper and Bricklayer for this camp. What happens at the end of the summer? You’ll most likely move on. And Howard, while I have nothing but high praise for his job performance of nearly two decades now, is another season older, and next year, we’re right back where we were this time last week!”

“Be that as it may, you seem to know your business, you’ve been interviewed and duly hired. You’ll get your honest day’s wages for an honest day’s work. Nothing more, nothing less. Do you understand?” That came across as less interrogative, and far more declarative.

At this point, all Paul could do was stand, be recognized, and say “Yes, sir, I understand!” and sit back down, with a very deep and pronounced sigh. Both George and Howard leaned in toward Paul, and told him that it went about as well as it could be expected. Paul couldn’t really complain, but he thought it could have gone better.

Promptly at 9:30, most of the camp residents were in attendance. The only people missing were kids under 15, and those designated to watch over them. John banged his gavel and started the meeting.

“Will the Reverend Frejdis Iversen please start us with the Invocation?”

Frejdis, who had been reviewing a page from her notebook, stood up, and folded her hands across her chest to the opposite shoulder.

With a look of utter serenity, she said, “Please prepare yourselves in the manner to which you are accustomed.” After a moment when most people bowed their heads, or clasped their hands, she started.

“Father, as your children we seek to return to the Garden, and in doing so, have created for ourselves a bit of it here, at Magnolia and Moss.” She looked down the length of the table. “Please bless these proceedings, and the people placed in charge here, who in good faith utilize the resources that you provide.” She walked out in front of the table, and held up her hands. “Bless our membership, without whom none of this would be worthwhile.” Continuing over to the side, she placed a hand on both George and Martha’s heads. “Bless our Admin team and caretakers, for while we only verbally thank them for the completion of their tasks, they provide us with so much more.” She stepped past Paul, standing before Howard. “Father, we thank You for this man, Howard, who has managed and maintained our Garden for us for these many years, delivering supplies, consumables, and a majestic spirit for all to enjoy. And despite age, You have maintained him in firmness and vigor.” Doris, sitting out amongst the membership, snorted, enjoying the thought of a double-entendre, and several other people, understanding Doris’ relationship with Howard, audibly enjoyed Frejdis’ choice of words.

Undeterred, Frejdis stepped in front of Paul, took his hands and held them to her chest, right under her chin. “Father, we ask that You bless the newest member of our Garden, Paul Thompson. This must all be so new to him. We ask that You bless these hands, those of a humble bricklayer, and in building a pathway through this Garden, he builds a path to You. We ask that You bless his mind, as he continues his studies in the Sciences of Your Creation. We ask that You bless his body, Lord, as he seeks to understand what is natural and healthy. And his spirit, Father, that he understands that he can pray freely, without embarrassment or sanction, in seeking guidance, wisdom, and strength from You, our God and Father! Amen!” She smiled down at Paul, and tipped his chin to close his mouth, before walking back to her seat at the end of the head table. It left Paul wondering ‘How could she know so much about me?’

Throughout the rest of the morning, the camp business was attended to. Paul learned a lot about the history of Magnolia and Moss Family Nudist Camp. It had been in business since the early 1920s, started by four Imperial German Navy prisoners of war from World War I, who had been assigned to the farm to help with the crops. When the war ended, they stayed in the United States, took over from the farmer when he decided to sell off some of the property, and together they created a little bit of home in the form of a nudist camp, like the one they had on the Baltic Sea, near the German-Danish border.

Gradually the old sailors died off, but not before M&M became an up and running, growing concern. The ownership changed hands a few times, but always going to someone who was interested in keeping it as a family-oriented, but still nudist, enterprise.

M&M had its ups and downs. The 1950s was a boom for the nudist industry, but the 1960s and 70s saw major declines, with a few ups, but never able to reach back to its peak. This cycle continued into the 80s and 90s, and with some well-reasoned medical advice, several multi-children families as new members, and an economy with more disposable income, M&M started growing again, though rather slowly. Fast forward to today, at the eve of the 2020s, and the budget and money management is still the number one issue with M&M. Paul began to believe his being hired was a major mistake, and that what someone really had in mind was his doing several upgrades prior to the whole thing being sold off to some eco-friendly real estate developer.

As Stacy Sterling read through her Treasurer’s Report, Paul could see that John Hamilton was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He clearly did not want to sell off M&M, or see that it happened because of things done or not done on his watch. It was reasoned that with the new brick decking around the pool, new promotional materials could be produced, with the goal of bringing in more new members. Everything seemed to revolve around money. Paul’s salary, the materials he would need to purchase for his project, maintenance and repair of the grounds, equipment, and facilities, etc., all required money that it seemed did not exist.

Soon enough, conversation came back around to the summer projects, especially Paul’s bricklaying project. Paul was recognized, so he stood, and reading from his notes, projected the revised number of bricks upward by several thousand, the number of bags of sand, again upward, and the cost of several new hand tools that he would like to use. Many of the members began shaking their heads, thinking that the cost would be extremely prohibitive. Stacy kept looking at her pencil as she wrote, expecting it to burst into flame.

What surprised everyone was when Paul gave his bottom line, which turned out to be several thousand dollars under earlier projections. A few people were speechless, while others shook their heads incredulously. Before anyone could ask questions, Paul explained about using second-hand bricks. Depending upon the condition of the individual brick lots, in most cases, one could purchase five to ten second-hand bricks for the price of a first-rate brick. He picked up a brick from the pile that had been delivered earlier in the week. Then he showed a second-hand brick. Nobody could tell the difference; they looked nearly identical, until he turned the second-hand brick over, and showed a small chip out of one corner. Since that would be the side that was underneath, few people saw much of a problem.

One lady raised her hand, and after being recognized by the board, asked several questions. “Are all of the bricks like that? Won’t there be chunks or cracks or faults around the pool that we’ll have to watch out for? Won’t it look, you know, decrepit?”

Paul shook his head. “I don’t believe so, ma’am. Considering the number of bricks we’re getting at a reduced price, even if half of the bricks are not usable for the pool patio, that still gives anywhere from three to eight bricks out of every ten, depending on the lot, that we can use without any issues.”

The flurry of conversation among the membership became animated. John Hamilton banged his gavel several times to retain and return order to the board. He was not used to being usurped in quite this manner, but he was intrigued that the young man had found a way to complete the work, and still bring it under budget, even with what he considered substandard bricks.

A motion was made to allow Paul to place his brick orders as needed, along with the requisite amount of sand and whatever hand tools he thought were required. Stacy Sterling ran the numbers several times using various combinations of brick orders, and came up $2500-$4500 under budget. The motion was seconded, and voted upon, unanimously by the board, and with only a few dissenters from the floor membership.

Paul sat back down, and both George and Howard leaned in, telling Paul that his project summation went much better than either one had expected. Paul was just glad that the worst seemed to be over, and that while the real work of laying brick was within sight, it would be easier by far than what had just transpired.

John Hamilton gaveled the table once more. “Is there anything new that needs to be brought up before we adjourn?”

Laura walked up the middle aisle with a stack of papers in her hand. “I have something!”, she said, sounding clearly disgusted.

John gaveled once and said, “The Board recognizes our resident businesswoman.” John, as a businessman himself, went out of his way to be as accommodating to Laura and her concession stand as possible.

“Thank you, Mister Chairman.” She turned around to address the membership. “Due to a mix-up at the distributors, my shipment of beers and sodas came in as eight- and twelve-ounce glass bottles, not the twelve- and sixteen-ounce aluminium cans that I usually have. As per my contract with Magnolia and Moss, my establishment is only allowed to serve canned beverages for the safety of the membership in the pool area, so anyone who wants to purchase beers or sodas will have to bring their own cups, so that I can pour them at the counter and recycle the glass bottles. I can sell six-packs to the tent and RV sites, as long as they are delivered by our cracker-jack delivery boys”, she motioned to Howard and Paul, “and they promise to be careful with the glass. I have these flyers that can be distributed to every camp site on the premises, explaining the issue. Thank you!!” She turned and handed a few flyers to the board members, and then walked over to Howard and Paul, handing them the rest of the stack.

Howard shook his head, handing the stack of flyers to Paul, but still looking up at Laura. “It’s bad enough we have to deliver your swill. Now we have to abuse ourselves with transporting unsafe and unlawful containers just so’s everyone can be safe from the harmful effects of broken glass!” He said it so deadpan, Paul thought Howard was serious.

Laura, however, knew better. She took the stack of flyers from Paul, whacked the floppy mass on top of Howard’s head, handed them back to Paul, and stalked off back to her food stand, much to the merriment of everyone who could see what happened.

Still shaking his head, Howard looked for sympathy from the summer-time membership.

“I don’t know how you folks put up with all of that,” he deadpanned, again.

Paul didn’t realize that his brief presentation of the upgraded projections before the board and the membership was but a light breeze compared to what was in store for the afternoon.

* * *

End of Memorial Day Weekend - Saturday Morning

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