CANCER RESEARCH THROUGH BETTER BEER

 

 

“I’m buying you a beer,” G said.

 

“That’s awfully nice, but you don’t have to,” I said.

 

“It’s that one,” he said.

 

“Which one?” I asked.

 

“At the bottom of the Daily Specials.”

 

I looked at the beer menu and didn’t see it.

 

“Where are the specials?” I asked.

 

“On the chalk board to the right.”

 

“I don’t see it,” I said.

 

“Keep looking.”

 

Then I spotted it.

 

“I like the looks of this,” I said.

 

 

G is a world traveling millennial used to doing kind things, and now he wants to do something kind I would appreciate, like buying me a beer, but not just any beer.

 

I’d just finished a half hour warm up on what to expect from a ‘new normal’ with a man my age on the sidewalk outside East Burn on East Burnside. I was at a birthday party for one of my favorite people in the world, aka my daughter in law.

 

Besides a group of party goers headed into a night of more excitement, men and women in their twenties and thirties, there were parents and friends of parents who’ve known each other at least a decade.

 

Millennials and boomers mixed well. Not some helicopter party police parents, but a group who liked getting together for special times, like a birthday party. It was a family gathering of sorts that started late afternoon.

 

 

It had moved from the party room to the dining room/bar when G saw the beer of the hour.

 

F* Cancer IPA had a nice ring to it. Expensive? The added cost goes to cancer research, so no, not expensive. Silver Moon Brewing in Bend, Oregon is the source.

 

After my ‘new normal’ conversation outside I was ready for something cool and tasty. What was the ‘new normal’ talk all about?

 

One of my coaching buddies from our rec-league days joined the group with his wife and son, another face in what I like to call the benefit of participating in kids’ lives. G was another one.

 

I noticed my coaching comrade either wore too big clothes, or lost weight. Then I noticed a few other things, like fresh zipper scars.

 

We talked about him and his experience related to the zipper. It was a hard talk and I wanted it all. The other coach wanted to stop short when he asked me about the cancer visit I had. But I stayed on his topic instead.

 

“So you came through it all?” I asked.

 

“Yes, I did, with a few unexpected side effects like nausea,” he said.

 

(Side note on nausea: seasickness is nausea, carnival rides get nauseous. It’s not the same as nausea after a medical event.)

 

“Pushing through the hard times is what loved ones look for. It’s what they will reflect on when their own hard times visit,” I said.

 

“I never thought of like that,” he said.

 

“You’re setting the bar for them to measure themselves by, how they’ll see their own friends and family later in life. By your good example you mark the trail,” I said.

 

We talked more, then he had to leave. That’s when G said, “I’d like to buy you a beer.”

 

And he did.

 

What I didn’t say was I hoped cancer research would result in better treatment with fewer side effects. If a brewery can spearhead cancer research, I’ll support the idea with a F* Cancer IPA.