The Legion of Doom

Pete, Jerry, Kevin, Carl, Paul, and Bob (left to right in the picture) are the original Legion of Doom. I gave them the name 4 or 5 years ago after a particularly memorable weekend of dissolution and pyromania in the north Georgia mountains.

Twice a year, these friends since high school, and assorted relatives, friends of relatives, and friends of friends of relatives assemble in the peaceful confines of Deliverance country to clean the cares of urban life from their psychological pipes. They load campers, trailers, pickup trucks, and ox carts with every variety of camping gear known to man, enough fire wood to burn a national forest, more food than sane people could eat in a week, and assorted improvised armament, and descend on the back country near Clayton, Georgia. The purpose of this convocation is ostensibly to chase the put-and-take trout in tiny streams. The actual reason is to unwind.

The name came about after a weekend of beer, and campfires visible from space. As a matter of fact, one of the campfires was probably audible from space. A slightly under-thought attempt to make a plywood Jack-o-lantern face breathe fire resulted in a rather substantial Kaboom. After the flaming camping equipment was extinguished, I hung the Legion name on the group.

They are close friends, cousins, and blood brothers that still relish each other's company, and I am proud to call them my friends, sons, and nephews too.

By the way, guys, it's time to start planning the fall fling.