Confessions of a later-in-life Peeping Tom

Look, it’s a curse carrying around a name like “Tom” all your life, having to endure childhood taunts like “Peeping Tom” from early school classmates. Because I was not then, nor have ever been, a Peeping Tom.

Well, at least not until recently, thanks to that video camera I recently bought, so well-camouflaged that those who are being peeped-upon don’t have a clue that I’m watching them.

I’ll get to that, but first a bit of background.

The term “Peeping Tom” dates back almost a thousand years, to a time when a lady named Godiva married a greedy ruler named Leofric in 1040, and urged him to reduce the severe taxes that he had levied on the poor townspeople of Coventry, England.

In a master stroke of passive-aggressiveness, Leofric told his pure, chaste wife Godiva: “Ascend thy horse naked and pass thus through the city from one end to the other in sight of the people, and on thy return thou shalt obtain thy request.” After receiving assurance that he would be true to his word, Godiva stripped down and mounted up, cloaked by nothing but her long, flowing hair.

But first, she appealed to the townspeople to avert their gaze during her stunt. And because by doing so they would enjoy lower taxes (and because, after all, Godiva wasn’t sporting a bob cut and there wouldn’t be much of a show anyway), all the townspeople drew their shades tight and turned their attention to whatever it was that medieval folks did without cable TV or video games.

Well, all except one. Legend has it that one citizen drilled a small hole in his drapes and “peeped” at the show. And his name, of course, was Tom.

It’s not clear how word got out that he had “peeped” at Godiva during her clothing-optional commute. Maybe his wife walked in on him and discovered his medieval porn obsession.

In any case, legends vary at this point.

Some tales claim that Tom was struck blind by Godiva’s beauty. Or maybe it was Tom’s wife who got that job done. In other tales, Tom is beaten to death by fellow townspeople for disrespecting the chaste purity of the kind Lady Godiva — and for risking the bottom line of their tax returns.

In any case, Leofric was true to his word. He cut taxes, and all the town was happy—well, except for Tom, of course.

But, as a fellow Peeping Tom, I believe that Tom’s reputation has been judged too harshly.

Maybe, once he pulled the shade for Godiva’s ride, his wife harped at him: “I thought I told you to fix that hole in the shade. Look at all that light streaming in!” Maybe it was a honey-do that did him in.

Or maybe, although legends hold that Tom was a tailor, he might have been a journalist. He was probably just verifying the facts to assure townspeople that Lady Godiva had, indeed, gone buck-nekkid bareback on their behalf when they read the paper the next day.

Because that’s what journalists do. Trust me. They verify even the most uncomfortable of facts. If you find creepy stuff on my laptop’s browser history, it’s just “thorough research.” Yeah, that’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

Anyway, I wanted you to know it’s possible that “Peeping Tom” has been treated unfairly by history over the ages. I especially wanted you to know, now that I’ve become a peeping Tom.

It started for me last summer, when I became curious about exactly what my noisy neighbors were doing in the cover of darkness at night. Sometimes they’re so ardent and clamorous, they keep you from getting a good night’s sleep.

And so I sent off for a CamPark T70 digital wildlife camera with 14 megapixel CMOS sensor—whatever all that means. There are no homes behind me, so I fastened it to the trunk of a crab-apple tree and pointed it at the line of oaks and grassy meadow at the back of my yard. I turned it on and waited to see what clarity it might bring to the night’s mysteries.

I wasn’t disappointed. Almost every night, my yard is visited by raccoons, opossums, skunks—even deer and coyotes. And it isn’t only at night, either. One ten-second video last summer captured a beautiful coyote, poised broadside for the camera, regally enjoying the sunrise. And just last night, a few minutes before sunset, a pair of coyotes stood howling in my back yard, chatting with another half-dozen or so of their friends and family in the meadow at the foot of the ridge. I didn’t even need the camera to know they were there.

So if my forest-and-meadow neighbors are so brazen about their comings and goings, is there any shame in being a “Peeping Tom” with my video camera? I think not.

Besides, I keep hearing rumors that pumas occasionally visit the Chicago area, and I would love to capture a video of one of them.

Of course, we also have “cougars” right here in Sun City. You can see them sometimes at Walmart or the Jewel — older ladies with younger men on their arm — but let’s save that for some other column.

Author, musician and storyteller TR Kerth is a retired teacher who has lived in Sun City Huntley since 2003. Contact him at trkerth@yahoo.com. Can’t wait for your next visit to Planet Kerth? Then get TR’s book, “Revenge of the Sardines,” available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online book distributors.

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