My pal Pete is a personal hero. I think it has to do with his crunch outer coating (he pretends to be a curmugeon in the mold of George Jefferson or Archie Bunker – either without the racism) but he is also a wunderkind with audio engineering and one of the most positive, up-lifting people you know – once ya know him.
A few years ago he mentioned that some of his really cool friends were doing their annual Meatfeat event on Memorial Day and I decided to tag along. Paula and Dave (the founders of the fest) are each warm and hilarious in their own rights. Paula and I keep up through the year VIA the omnibus Twitter feed, (I’m @knoxvillerob and she’s @overtlytrite) but I cherish the one time per year that I get to drive the two miles from my house to theirs and revel in the wit, variety and unbridled carnivorous fun that is Meatfeat.
In the kitchen there is a quorum of mothers fussing over the goodies and desserts then catching up from the last tome they met, outside a flock of children frolic in the yard wielding badminton rackets and supersoakers while over to the left Pete, Little Murphy and others held forth over the grills preparing the carnal guest of honor. I brought beverages and Moonpie ice cream.
Inside we all sat around quipping. Its great when I get to sit around with that many very clever people and quip about anything that comes to mind. We also oohed and ahhed over Chris and Maria’s new baby (dubbed Danger- not his real middle name).
I generally avoid topics of real estate, though this year I chatted a bit with Jim and Anna about stuff in North Knoxville. Other topics this year included LotR, Japanese cartoons, moonshine and Mel Brooks. I brought in a cd of Peter Holsapple from the that I found in my truck. It was an interesting juxtaposition of 90s jangle rock and the last few laps of Dave’s NASCAR race in Charlotte.
When the sun went down, all the kids bundled out the front door and went to see the neighbor’s “every-major-holiday” fireworks spectacle (the said he spent over $5k on those sparklers this year) followed by a blast from his (real) cannon.
They were watching High Anxiety – a Brooks classic, when I headed home happy, full of meat and thankful that I know them all.
I think Pete was scalding more weiners when I left at midnight.