The other day I met my friends Bob and Kelly at Pulliam's—the renowned restaurant on Old Walkertown Road that has been serving hot dogs and barbecue since 1910.
The next day—in the course of continuing to have fun talking about hot dogs with Kelly—I mentioned that I had participated in two hot dog eating contests over the years. The first one had been at the city recreation center supervised by Art Blevins, a man renowned for inspiring young people and treating them with respect.
I like to say that Art had such a remarkable balance in the Bank of Good Will that people were happy to do whatever he asked them to do. When Art invited professional basketball players and TV anchor Cameron Kent to participate in the annual basketball tournament at the recreation center, they said "yes".
At the time of the hot dog eating contest in the late 1980s, I was writing for the Winston-Salem Journal. Art invited me to be their sole adult competitor in a contest in which the rest of the participants would be young people at the center.
On the day of the tournament, as the time for the competition approached, Art plunked down a mysterious closed white box in front of me. It contained special hot dogs he had fixed just for me, he said. More available if I needed them. When the bell rang for the competition to begin, I opened the box to discover that, while all the young people would be eating regular-sized hot dogs, mine were all footlongs.
Knowing that Art had ensured that, when he announced the winner, there was no way it was going to be me, I had to smile. Nonetheless, I forged ahead. I am sorry to say that I no longer remember how many footlongs I swallowed.
I can say that, along with the winner, I received a trophy. The boy who won thought my trophy was more impressive than his and asked if I would trade him. One of my regrets in life is that I told him "no" because my trophy had my name on it. If I had it to do over, I would definitely give it to him.
I can also say that my friend John Downey—who no longer remembers how many I ate either—told me that he could have most certainly done better. Back and forth between us led to deciding to have our own competition with regular-size hot dogs.
Our friends Kelli and Liz decided to join and, with the help of a couple of friends who agreed to be in charge of ensuring that we had all the hot dogs we needed, we were set.
The first few dogs went down quickly and easily. It wasn't long, though, before the process slowed down. By six or seven dogs each, Kelli and Liz were done.
John and I kept at it, though. In my memory, I am soon in a super slow-motion world where each bite takes forever. My eyes are locked on watching John eat and there is no way that I am going to let him have the satisfaction of lording it over me as the contest winner.
Eventually, with 11 hot dogs behind us and halfway through the 12th dog, both of us reach the point at which it is not possible to take another bite.
We reluctantly declare a tie.
These days, after finishing two hot dogs at Dairi-O, along with sweet-potato fries and endless refills of soda, it's hard to imagine I once lived in a universe in which I ate more than 11 hot dogs.
What's not hard to remember is how amazing Art Blevins was.
It has been my good fortune to meet many people such as Art who have a gift for bringing love into the world.
~
The son of a Presbyterian minister, Kim grew up in North Carolina and West Virginia. After he took a leave of absence from college, he spent his 20s in New York, Atlanta and San Francisco.
After he moved back to Winston-Salem. N.C., he spent 25 years as a reporter and columnist for the Winston-Salem Journal and another 10 years writing for Winston-Salem/Forsyth County Schools. During those years, he met many remarkable people.
Along the way, Kim wrote and his wife, Garnet, illustrated two picture books—His Dogness Finds a Blue Heart and The Wonderful World of Sparkle Girl and Doobins. Since retiring he has written Cat & Wren, a chapter book for young people he hopes will be published one day.
No comments:
Post a Comment