A half-dozen men with ball caps and beer cans hovered around Kemper Dickinson as he unloaded a steaming mass of brats onto a kitchen table already brimming with pig and cow products.
The grill outside Dickinson’s West Ashley home sizzled and popped with still more sausages, their casings sweating under the heat of the fiery coals. The closest thing on hand to a vegetable was a tray of jalapeno peppers swaddled in bacon.
Welcome to a Man Cave gathering.
Old guys get together in groups for breakfast or lunch. We’ve solved a lot of problems in my “old farts” group but others decline the opportunity to use us as consultants. Of course stories are important and we all fight for a chance to share ours. The problem is that as we age our stories require more and more context. For you younger folks out there, be patient, there’s a moral or a punch line coming eventually. There is one caveat though, time is not of the essence.