The Weenie Roast

The weenie roast

Most of the parks activities are indoors, such as dinners, ice cream socials, bingo, poker night, etc.
The weenie roast is an exception. At about 5 pm, as the sun is preparing to set, 20 of us gathered around a large pit fire, dangling hot dogs on long forks over it. At first, Peter thought this was a great idea and anticipated being the receiver of such fine food. Much to his shock and dismay, the hotdogs quickly disappeared into buns and were eaten. Of course he was not completely disappointed, since I did save one for him.

As the sun set and the desert temperature quickly cooled, the conversation leaned towards individuals telling of their home state and their desire to leave it for the seasons. Most were from the northwest, Washington, Oregon) with some from Canada. There was a couple who had just arrived from Salt Lake City, Utah who reported it was snowing when they left. Now that’s why they call them snowbirds.
Then there was an old timer (looking like Gabby Hayes) from Alaska.
We only knew him as Jerry, a small man with a large gray-white beard who looked about 80+ and in fine health. At his side were a mandolin case and a large bottle of red wine. He opened both, and after a cup of wine (for his arthritis he claimed) he began to serenade us with song after song, which many of us sang along with. Another camper, with lesser talent than Jerry but with much gusto and exuberance, opened up a case and withdrew a saxophone and some sheet music, and proceeded to play his songbook of Christmas tunes, which we all chimed in on.

As time ticked on, the temperature ticked downward and the fire no longer was adequate to supply the heat needed to keep us in the spirit, although I suspect that Jerry’s wine was doing a fine job of keeping him warm as he frequently refilled his cup.