the dead pecker club
In my hometown, as long as I can remember, people sat on the main street watching cars and talking about the state of affairs in the world, politics, local government, and probably other people in the town. Mostly it was kids just hanging out watching the few cars that went through town, and other times it was people sitting outside the bar. Back in my childhood there were two bars, one on either side of the street, across from each other. The one remaining bar is a gathering place for people in the town and many others who come for the good food that is served there by the good people who work there.
For several years the street gathering was a little more predictable. When my dad was still alive, a friend of his picked him up each night at around 730PM. I can still see him sitting on the steps on their house, waiting for his ride, his hair neatly combed and his best blue t-shirt on and a jacket just in case it got cold. Sometimes his ride didn't show up which was disappointing to my dad, who must have looked forward to this social activity every night. Other times Joe would come get him and they would go sit in front of an old building that is now apartments, but at one time was a drug store and later a teen center. Several other guys of various ages came around and sat there maybe drinking pop and talking until about 930 or so. When I visited, sometimes I would go and sit and talk to my dad and his friends. One of the guys, who was becoming forgetful, kept asking me "whose kid are you?" Often my dad would brag to them about my marathons and that I "was the head of every hospital in Utah".
When you get to a certain age, age doesn't seem to matter so much and there were guys that were younger and maybe a few older than my dad. Despite that some of them may not have been friends earlier in life they were all friends now and all equal - despite their role or standing in the town or which end of town they lived in. They all shared a common bond of growing up in this small town and much of what they talked about was remembering what used to be "the good old days".
This group of older guys became known as "the dead pecker club". I think the name, although not complementary (and maybe not true at all) was given with good humor. If you mention the name, everyone - or at least the women in the town, know what you are talking about.
My dad is gone, and sadly this year three more members of this social group are missing as well. Two of them have died and Joe, the one who picked my dad up each night, is in long term care. The group has few if any original members in it, and it is now up to the younger guys in the town to carry on the tradition. My brother has taken over for my dad, and goes up there each night around 8 or so just to see who might show up.
Some of the women in the town have talked about taking over where the guys have left off. They could still be the DP club - only the "P" would stand for something else!
For several years the street gathering was a little more predictable. When my dad was still alive, a friend of his picked him up each night at around 730PM. I can still see him sitting on the steps on their house, waiting for his ride, his hair neatly combed and his best blue t-shirt on and a jacket just in case it got cold. Sometimes his ride didn't show up which was disappointing to my dad, who must have looked forward to this social activity every night. Other times Joe would come get him and they would go sit in front of an old building that is now apartments, but at one time was a drug store and later a teen center. Several other guys of various ages came around and sat there maybe drinking pop and talking until about 930 or so. When I visited, sometimes I would go and sit and talk to my dad and his friends. One of the guys, who was becoming forgetful, kept asking me "whose kid are you?" Often my dad would brag to them about my marathons and that I "was the head of every hospital in Utah".
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| My dad on the right, and Joe - neither of them are able to attend these get togethers any more. |
When you get to a certain age, age doesn't seem to matter so much and there were guys that were younger and maybe a few older than my dad. Despite that some of them may not have been friends earlier in life they were all friends now and all equal - despite their role or standing in the town or which end of town they lived in. They all shared a common bond of growing up in this small town and much of what they talked about was remembering what used to be "the good old days".
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| this is a picture of what the building looked like a long time ago. |
My dad is gone, and sadly this year three more members of this social group are missing as well. Two of them have died and Joe, the one who picked my dad up each night, is in long term care. The group has few if any original members in it, and it is now up to the younger guys in the town to carry on the tradition. My brother has taken over for my dad, and goes up there each night around 8 or so just to see who might show up.
Some of the women in the town have talked about taking over where the guys have left off. They could still be the DP club - only the "P" would stand for something else!
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The dead pecker club awaiting it's members. My brother has reserved his seat with his jacket! |
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