Wreck Beach

I wrote this blog for those readers who have never visited Vancouver, B.C. People who haven’t heard of the biggest nude beach in North America. It's located right on the campus of the University of British Columbia. I know because I took every opportunity to spend time down there, enjoying the sun, conversing with other students, meditating...oh, who I am kidding? I went down there to stare at naked women.

Nude beaches in Canada are different than clothing optional beaches in California. If you can find a nude beach in Southern California there's a good chance that it's either littered with needles, used condoms or a dead body. In Canada, as in Europe, nudity isn’t considered taboo or even risque. Whole families spend a day, naked in the sun. We Americans feel nudity is better left to the privacy of your own home where people are less likely to laugh at you.

Growing up in conservative Wisconsin left me with some hang ups as to public nudity. The only time you're naked outdoors in Wisconsin is when a bear is attacking your tent and you don't have time to put on underwear.

My son, Tyson, was about six or seven years old when he came to live with me at UBC. Wreck Beach is on the other end of campus from family housing. As we walked he would pick flowers to give to the prettiest girls on the beach. Let me tell you a kid with flowers beats a puppy hands down when it comes to meeting women. No matter how cute the puppy might be.

Some of the locals make a living on the beach selling everything from margaritas to hashish. You could always tell if someone was a cop because they would be wearing underwear. Technically it's illegal to be nude in public but that hasn't stopped thousands from descending on Wreck Beach every summer. Some of them live down there all through the summer. It’s like Woodstock without the acid. Although I can’t swear to the acid.

It's not easy getting down to the beach. You've got to crawl down this incredibly steep, winding path for about a quarter of a mile before you hit sand. Walking back up is a fine workout for anyone. (Especially if you're carrying cameras around your neck) Wreck Beach lives on and always will. The arch conservative elements of Vancouver politics have always threatened to bulldoze a road down to the beach so the cops can easily patrol it but that has never happened. I hope it never will. Where else can you be naked without getting laughed at?

Sex & Sin

I was raised in a small Wisconsin farming town where we learned the two greatest sins were sex and losing to the Chicago Bears. The greatest sin would have been to actually have sex with a Bear. Vince Lombardi was coach of the Packers and I thought sex was only for Californians and Paul Horning. (He was the playboy of the 60’s Packers) I've grown up since those days and learned that sex is only a sin if it ends up on You Tube.

There was a time in my life when I wanted to be a Franciscan monk. Not because I wanted to devote my life to Christ but because I thought the robes looked so cool. What’s not to like about brown robes and sandals? That's pretty much the same reason I enlisted in the Air Force. Cool uniforms. I was a young, naive altar boy back when Latin was spoken in Mass. It's hard to believe I was ever that innocent.

As a Catholic growing up in the 50's and 60's I was taught that sex was a sin unless you were married and then only done to make more Catholics. Only Lutherans were allowed to enjoy sex. They caught all the breaks. One teacher I had told me that sex was bad even in marriage but I think she was speaking only of her marriage.

Where I grew up in Wisconsin there were only three religions: Catholics, Lutherans and Packer fans. I never met or even saw any minorities until I graduated from high school and worked as an elevator operator at the YMCA in Chicago down in the loop. Talk about culture shock. Yet in its own way I found it exciting. Haight-Ashbury would appeal to me for the same reason a year later.

I lost my virginity in the front of a '61 Falcon and to this day my knees hurt just thinking about it. Don't ask. It only brings back embarrassing memories. I don't think I would have enjoyed sex as much if it wasn't a sin. It's a lot like enjoying a hot dog on Friday back when the church considered it a venial sin to eat meat on Friday. Then one day it wasn’t a sin and I haven’t enjoyed a hot dog since.

"The DaVinci Code" hypothesized that Jesus married Mary Magdalene and they had a daughter who grew up in France. While this story doesn't offend my Catholic sensibility, I am saddened to hear anybody's kid had to grow up in France.

I suppose sex before marriage will always be a sin. I hope so. If there’s sex in Heaven I hope we get to wear masks.

Hollywood Daze

In L.A. just about everyone came from somewhere else. A growing number are from Central America and haven’t learned English yet. Many of them never want to learn. Others are from Russia, Armenia and all across Europe. The rest of us drove here from other states. I came from Wisconsin. The one thing we all have in common is that we experience homesickness. We miss not only our home land but also the culture and traditions we grew up with. L.A. becomes our home but in our heart home will always be another land. That land for me is Wisconsin. At least it was until I set foot on the Sunshine Coast.

Although I didn’t grow up on the Sunshine Coast it’s home to me now. That's because no place on the planet makes me happier. There is a joy I get from walking down Wharf Road or any other street in Sechelt that I just don't get anywhere else. Most of us live where we want to live. That’s the beauty of living in a free country. If I was allowed to work in Canada I would be packing immediately. I was born an American but I am in love with Canada. It's hard to explain. It's like being married to a woman you'll never divorce but you're passionately in love with a really hot mistress. The Sunshine Coast is my hot mistress.

The scenery from Langdale north is absolutely stunning. The people of the highest caliber. It is the closest I’ll ever get to Heaven. I am comedy writer/improv comic but my day job is giving tours of stars homes. Most people in Hollywood can't make a living in show business. That's reality. Hey, we've got to pay the bills too.

number of my blogs chronicle my memories of growing up in a small Wisconsin farm town as compared to my life chasing fame in Hollywood. As compared to my time on the Sunshine Coast. More importantly these blogs give me a chance to rave about your part of the world. The best part. I hope you enjoy them. Feel free to contact me with feedback or any questions. If you're planning a trip to L.A. and am curious about tours of stars homes I can offer you some free advice. It's the least I can do. After all, I might get lost on the Sunshine Coast someday. We can toss back a few Canadian beers down at the Lighthouse Pub. You can't beat their food and the view is to die for.

Village Idiot

There was a time a hundred years ago or more when I believed whatever anyone said in a chat room. If we all wore name tags mine would read, "Village Idiot".

My life might have turned out differently if I was born good-looking, rich, or smart. Instead I was the funny one that nobody invited to their birthday parties. I was the class clown always shy in front of the girls. While I had no problems cracking up everyone in class I would get extremely shy in front of anyone with a uterus. Do you think George Clooney is shy in front of anyone? Did Brad Pitt clam up in front of Angelina when he first met her? Is it normal to be somewhat of a clod in front of beautiful women? It is for me.

Life would be so much easier if I could just read a woman's mind. That would take all that annoying mystery out of the game. I would know whether she likes me or is just tolerating me because she can’t stand seeing a grown man cry. Maybe it's better I never know. What is a Village Idiot to do? I suppose if God meant for me to have an active sex life He would have blessed me with both testicles.

There's no question I'm a slow learner. No matter how many times I am spurned I continue to give out my business cards like they were hits of Ecstasy. Then when she doesn't call I convince myself that it's a waste of time to even flirt and vow never to hand out my card again. Never to even strike up a conversation with a beautiful woman. The first time I run into another gorgeous nymph I make an ass out of myself again. I think it’s in men’s DNA for to continue flirting despite making fools out of ourselves again and again. We’re junkies for humiliation.

Men and women play the same games. The only difference is women are much smarter than us. It's like comparing Anna Kornikova to a chimp with a racket. Getting rejected by a beautiful woman is disheartening but understandable. That doesn't make it any less painful. Just easier to cope with. It's a wonder women have put up with us this long. If genetic scientists ever create a penis in a Petri dish we men are in serious trouble.
My name is Tom.
I am the Village Idiot.