BOOZE HISTORY UPDATE

Boozer history is pretty straight forward, from China, to Egypt, to now.

This link comes from homewetbar.com, which sounds pro-booze.

Another link showing the same history comes from drugfreeworld.com, which doesn’t sound pro-booze.

We all have a history of booze and booze culture as a participant, or witness.

It’s not always pretty, but there are moments.

My Dad used to break out his fly fishing rig on weekends.

He tied flies and drank beer and seemed to enjoy himself.

The kids would ask for a taste, get it, and hate it.

His preference was Olympia. I’m still not a fan, but I’ll crack one for the memories.

They say, “It’s the water.”

If they knew the problem was the water, why not fix it?

It’s not always memories of my Dad.

 

In 1971 I was a high school sophomore walking on a gravel road by my house when I noticed the car of a senior I knew.

He was a football, baseball guy, but he didn’t live around there.

I stepped behind some bushes and watched him hide a half-rack of Olympia in the roadside woods. (Hey JM)

After he left I moved the half case of beer to the other side of the road, went home and called a couple of guys.

That night the three of us each drank four bottles of beer in the woods. (Hey Gary, hey Kip)

It was my first drunk night on the town and I spent it hugging a telephone pole, then the sign at Geno’s Pizza.

And they say romance is dead.

I eventually got home in time, went straight to bed, and hugged my pillow.

No fighting, no law breaking, just a churning gut and a dizzy head.

It wasn’t just the water.

 

Senior Year Summer

Fast forward three years and a group of classmates went to a wedding in the woods.

This was my outfit for the big night.

It was a beautiful ceremony with a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds and highlighting the couple. (Hey Ellen)

We went to the reception at the groom’s house where he had a case of whiskey for the occasion.

Since we were such sophisticates, we decided we each should have a bottle.

With the festivities in the front room with parents and family, we hung in the kitchen drinking, leaning against the gas stove buttons, and setting ourselves on fire.

After someone noticed smoke we went to the front room to mingle.

One of the guys leaned on a wall.

Except it wasn’t a wall, it was a batik tapestry hung as a door, and he disappeared by falling into the bedroom. (Hey Ron)

We left, got asked to leave. One or the other.

We picked our guy up and got into the car, a 1963 Dodge Polaris convertible with a push button automatic. (Hey Mark)

Since none of us was in any condition to drive, one of the girlfriends took the wheel. (Hey Bonnie)

 

 

She’d never driven a push button transmission. Who has?

Once on the road she pushed a button at about fifteen miles an hour.

No one got hurt when the car slammed to a stop, but the people in front flew into the windshield and those in back were thrown into the front seat.

Once we got back to town we decided to park the car at the owner’s place.

We got out and walked it off when I saw my parents pull into their driveway.

I weaved my way over and told my mom about the night and how some of us were rocked on whiskey, so don’t tell his parents.

His parents were sitting in the backseat.

I said hello and walked away.

Back at my house one of the guys felt so bad he had to crawl around the front yard until he got straightened out.

Then my Mom and Dad pulled up.

To keep the neighborhood nice and quiet my buddy came in the house and crawled around the living room for a while.

The parents were not thrilled.

 

Fifty Years Of Booze History Later

I like a good beer and have navigated all of the fads and trends from fresh hop IPA to Coors Light.

It’s been a good time.

 

 

Some beer has been better than others.

 

 

Drinking Spanish and German beer in England was different, but a good choice for where we were.

I searched boomerpdx for beer posts and found 430 of them.

Is beer an inspiration for better booze history?

Sure looks that way.

The key to drinking alcohol successfully is time and place.

If you think you have a drinking problem, you might.

Without the evidence of breaking the law, it’s hard to say.

Your health will tell you all about it with diabetes, weight gains and loss, and a bad liver.

Or?

Or, your wife will give you the business, your kids will challenge you, and how you respond will tell you where you’re headed.

So slow down, speedy, and be agreeable. Cut. Back.

I’m not saying go to a confessional, hit the twelve steps, or stop altogether.

Just listen to the people who know you best.

 

Wife: What’s in your glass?

Me: Water.

Wife: Let me taste it.

Me: If I say water, it’s water. Since when have I hidden anything, lied to you, or snuck around behind your back.

Wife:

Me: But, since you asked so nicely, come over here and give me a big kiss on the old smacker and tell me what you think then.

Wife: Okay, it’s water.

Me: But you need to be sure, so pucker up buttercup. Cheers.