Talking about drinking alone, it is not a sin in itself, just as long as it’s not a regular problem solver. Who said “In all things moderation”? If it’s good stuff, I can understand not sharing ;>) BTW, in a couple of weeks I’m breaking out the Scotch and a Cuban one more time. THE anniversary. I really need to be on a beach somewhere, ocean breezes playing, Moon hanging large, for the ambiance to be right for that occasion. I don’t think it will be possible. But the gulf is only 2 1/2 hours away, might make a evening run for the coast and be back by dawn.
I met two friends one night several weeks ago. I discovered one was on the way to the others home, and I invited myself along. Slick, huh? I hadn’t seen them in a while, so I drove up the road intent on catching up, as well as relaxing and enjoying their company. And as we sat and talked, I soon discovered that my good friend X, who’s wife had left a year ago, was getting divorced in the morning. He’s not the kind of guy that would care for you to pray with him, or to hug him, but he needed company that night. W and I showed up like a pair of homing pigeons, minutes apart, right on time. It was kind of like the guys version of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. We sat out front for a long, long time. Not solving anything, just listening to the wind. And talking when it calmed for a minute.
When I was a kid, we drove from Ohio to Cape Cod, camping all along the way. I caught trout in Pennsylvania, we hiked in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and generally had a fantastic time. Looking back I wonder how we all lived in such close proximity back then without killing one another, so much togetherness. Actually, it was not a burden, that I remember. We knew that Mom and Dad loved each other tremendously, it was no secret. They were the love of each others lives, for 40+ years. Pretty cool, good example. And my little sister and I, well, we really did love one another, although we pinched and poked each other any chance we had, especially on the drive to Cape Cod. There was this imaginary line down through the center of the backseat, you see… We couldn’t admit it back then, because we were more like competitors. She calls me now and before she hangs up tells me she loves me. I can tell she really means it. Sometimes she beats me to it. She’s a cute little sugar plum…
What does this have to do with drinking? Great question! You’re hard to shake! While we were camping, we happened upon the Daniel Webster Inn. It was a quaint place back then, very neat, with excellent seafood. I fell in love with Scallops and Maine Lobster at the Inn. Actually everything there tasted great. I heard it burned several years back, and has been rebuilt. It be a great place for a honeymoon, or a get away. Cape Cod was very interesting, but the water was frigid!
The history there was fascinating. Daniel Webster, Statesman, hung out there regularly for years. Probably why it is named after him now, ya think? He supposedly had a standing reservation, presumably to keep him from being arrested while driving his horse and buggy under the influence. He died after falling off of his horse, and smashing his head, perhaps DUI. The tale says that he died from the head injury and cirrhosis. Seems like it would be one, or the other. Either Jack Daniel got ya, or hitting your head on a rock. But not both. Unless perhaps you were doing one while the other happened. Still, if your liver is already pickled, an accident that might not prove fatal could end up being final.
So, what did the Colonists drink back then? Mead? Wine? Rum? Probably all of the above. The Puritans, Catholics,and Anglicans of the colonies all held an enlightened view of alcohol. It was a gift of God, to be used and enjoyed, but not abused. Just like any other gifts in this life. Not sure where this prohibitionist spirit came from down here.
So, here’s to contemplative drinking, and cigars. And if you’ve had too much, get a room, and stay off of your horse.