The Weenie Man tradition continues to this day. However, it has done so with little help from me.
As a founding member of the Weenie Men (Order of the Tarp), proudly carrying the honorable titles of Light Master and Official Recording Secretary, I know I ought to be ashamed of my lack of participation on recent expeditions. I should be stripped of my Official Weenie Man ball cap and coffee mug. The Weenie Men (and my wife) have often requested that I strap on my backpack and return to the Smokies. But lately, I have declined.
However, I'm not the only one. Other than Gary and Rock, most of the Weenie Men have been pretty reluctant to hit the trails lately. I suspect this has something to do with age. We Weenie Men are not nearly as young (nor foolish) as we once were. The idea of sleeping on the ground in the pouring rain seems to have lost a bit if its appeal.
Nowadays, whenever several of us Weenie Men gather together, we still fantasize about future expeditions. However, such fantasies now usually revolve around renting a houseboat. Who needs to carry heavy packs on aging backs? We talk of swapping cold, soggy sleeping bags for warm, dry houseboat berths.
And, all the Weenie Men dream of that wonderful houseboat toilet. Oh, what luxury!
I'm not sure if all the Weenie Men will ever again gather in the Smokies. But, I am completely sure that we'll always remain Weenie Men at heart.
Direct comments, questions, compliments, and death threats to fred@DumbSoutherner.com.
Copyright © 1996-2004 Fred D. Bean
All rights reserved.
