Host: StonchSite: stonch.blogspot.com
Theme: "On Friday 4th April, the date of the next Session, I'd like you to write about people. Choose someone you know personally. That person might be a brewer, a publican, someone who sups at your local, or maybe just a friend who is passionate about beer. Let's read some pen portraits of your companions on the path to fermented enlightenment."
Bob is my Dad. He drinks Labatt's Blue religiously. Before Labatt's it was Michelob. Before Michelob it was Pabst or Natural Light. My Dad has never taught me about original gravity or dry-hopping. He's never taught me about the difference between a Kolsch and a Pilsner or cascade hops and chinook hops. In fact, my Dad has really only taught me one thing about beer in my whole life. He taught me that beer is something that can be a great way to bring two people together, on the same level, and have them be genuine with one another.
A few weeks ago I made the trip down from Maine to Pennsylvania to visit my Dad. I got in around midnight. He had just finished his work shift, second shift is a brutal shift if you ask me, and arrived home not long after I had parked my truck. Besides the 7 days worth of food he had bought to sustain me for my 36 hour visit, he also unloaded 24 beautiful bottles of Tröegs (from not far up the road in Harrisburg). A quick hug, a couple pats on the back and the beers were poured.
Since my Dad gets off work at midnight, he's a night owl. We stayed up until close to dawn just catching up, talking about my childhood, his childhood and my twin brother Kelly who lives far away in Sweden. This is the time when I connect most with the person who sacrificed so much to make sure I had a good life.
Dad drinks the Troegs with me and I tell him lots of nerdy stuff about them. He acts sincerely interested which makes me happy. He's always been a great listener and these are the times I really notice that. Not long before I head to bed I ask him about the times when he used to drive up to visit his father, my grandfather, in West Pittston in northeast Pennsylvania. I wanted to know what they did with their time together after Dad had grown up. My Dad took a sip of the beer that I am making him drink, despite the Labbatt's Blues in the back of the fridge, and said, "We drank beer and talked. He told me about his life and I told him about mine. He opened up and I learned who he really was as a person."
Cheers Dad! You taught me the only thing that really matters when it comes to beer.
