The last time we were down at the coast, we dropped by the Village Market to see what sort of winter sales they had on summer items — T-shirts and such. And when we came out, I noticed my wife had something in a bag.
Now, my wife emerging from a store with something in a bag is not an uncommon occurrence, so I thought no more of it until we got in the car and she handed me a gift — a 2010 calendar featuring "The Calendar Girls of 30-A."
(30-A is the road that runs along the beach, right in front of our house, down in South Walton County, Fla.)
On the cover was a bevy of middle-aged beauties out on the beach in their polka-dot swimsuits, and right slap-dab-in-the-middle was our across-30-A neighbor, Didon.
I have known Didon for a long time and can say without fear of contradiction that she is the sorta person who keeps the beach humming. (In the early '70s, when only sailors and bikers had tattoos, she appeared with a little strawberry just above the bikini line. Her mother was aghast. I was dazzled.)
Now retired, more or less — she still runs her on-the-beach rental "East of the Sun, West of the Moon" — Didon spends at least some of her time with a group of "mature" ladies who call themselves the "Polka Dot Pool Pussycats." They meet weekly for a water workout, after which they drink mimosas and eat cheese croissants.
Hold that thought.
Some of you will recall that in 2001, members of the Alternative Women's Institute of Rylstone, England, took off their clothes and created "The Ladies of Rylstone Calendar," which they sold to raise money for leukemia research; the husband of one of the group had died of the disease a few years earlier.
Who would have thought that a calendar featuring women in their 40s, 50s and 60s would create a sensation at home and abroad, but it did. I bought my daddy a copy, and he loved it.
Now my wife had bought me a copy of the 30-A version, with Didon as Miss January, posing in a full-length fur coat and, as best I could tell, nothing else.
Like the Ladies of Rylstone, the Girls of 30-A had stripped down for a good cause — breast cancer awareness. They had all been touched, one way or another, by the disease, and they wanted to do something to help others.
According to Didon, "It was a spontaneous project that was born at one of our regular Friday a.m. mimosa brunches." Kris Chavez, a member of the group, brought in a copy of the movie Calendar Girls based on the Rylstone ladies' experience. They watched it and someone (probably Didon) said, "we can do that." Others said "no we can't," so Didon stripped off her bathing suit and covered her "naughty bits" with a couple of palm fronds to show them how.
Thus, the scheme was hatched. They would get sponsors to cover the cost. Chavez, a professional photographer as well as one of their own gender, would take the pictures — except her own. She is a fetching Miss September. Those who could not bring themselves to bare it all (or, at least, most of it) would help with production and sales.
So off they went. Twelve sponsors gave $500 each to the project. Local establishments — Café 30-A, The Red Bar, Kubacki Art Studio and others, including the Edward Jones office — volunteered to serve as locations.
Of course, not everyone approved of the calendar. Didon's children were not pleased at all. It was a "Mama, how could you?" moment. I can relate to that. When my wife presented me with my copy, I asked if she might be willing to pose for a good cause. She said "sure." Our children were horrified. My son, who has the Sports Illustrated swimsuit calendar on the wall of the Man Cave, vowed that he would never be able to face his friends if his mama did such.
My suggestion that a calendar of "The Ladies of PTO" would be a good fund-raiser for their schools brought howls of protest.
I thought it was a good idea. Even volunteered to be the photographer.
There I go digressing again.
So 12 ladies of 30-A got their pictures taken, sans clothes but covered. And by my calculations, they have raised more than $17,000 to underwrite the cost of mammograms at the local hospital for women who cannot afford them.
Last I heard, there are a few calendars left. Contact Yipi Art and Graphic Design in Seaside, Fla. (yipi@mchsi.com). Because January is now nearly past, you might get a discount. But you shouldn't, because you still get the picture of Miss January, Didon. And, if you look closely, I think you can see that strawberry tattoo.
Harvey H. ("Hardy") Jackson is Eminent Scholar in History at Jacksonville State University and a columnist and editorial writer for The Star. E-mail: hjackson@jsu.edu.
