My Dad and Beer

Growing up, part of my dad's daily routine was to unwind and have a beer with dinner.  He did this as far back as I can remember, and at a young age I would ask to take sips.  Beer was disgusting to my 10-year-old self.

Sometimes he would also have a small bit of liquor before going to bed.  This I also became curious about.  At that young age, it seemed to me that it didn't so much taste like anything as it just BURNED. BURNED me.

But my dad's preference was for beer. Oh he loved beer. He was drinking Sam Adams in the days when everyone was still drinking Budweiser and Michelob.  Often times when he traveled, he would return with a specialty beer, or a beer stein.

My dad also had a stint where he engaged in making his own beer at home.  He made several batches, the first or second one being the best, and the rest of them rapidly declining in quality as my dad attempted to achieve a nice, deep, rich beer and ended up with something more resembling fudge.  But it was still pretty cool that he was trying to brew his own beer.

Despite my initial distaste for alcohol, we reacquainted ourselves and became friends.  One time on a trip home from college, my dad and I entered "new territory" by drinking a beer with each other at dinner.  I brought the bottle of brewsky to my lips for the first sip, and my dad looked at me, kind of surprised, and asked, "Don't you want a glass to pour that in?" I said, "Nah, I just drink it straight from the bottle."

His look changed to barely disguised disdain, he harumphed, and said, with a snort, "How uncouth."

There's no real point to all this except that these tidbits all came flooding back to me when, last night, I received a call from my parents, and the caller ID showed up as:

"BREW AMERICA"

Perhaps my dad is taking is home beer-brewing corporate or something. I don't know. It just seemed fitting, don't you think?