Why Would Anyone Want to “Run Around Nekkid?!”
My father sat at the kitchen table, shaking the crease out of his newspaper while nursing his post-dinner coffee.
“Looks like they’ve finally chased off those nekkid hippies out by the bridge — once and for all! They should all put their clothes on and go get a job!”
I sat quietly, picking at my Hamburger Helper. It was 1978. I was fifteen years old. I finally summoned up the courage to sheepishly utter a question, “So, what’s the big deal…