My Dozen Years With Alcohol

When I was 15 my best friend, Jimmy, was 18.  We found that on quiet nights we could always go to a bar and there would be someone to talk to, or otherwise associate with.  The problem was that while he was of a legal age to drink alcoholic beverages in New York State, I was not.  To solve that problem we had to locate a beer-serving bar that would serve to anyone without going through the trouble of asking how old they were.  In Ogdensburg, NY this became a fine establishment by the name of “The Hub.”

So it was at age 15 I would belly up to the bar, order a “Jenny,” and enjoy myself with the big boys.  This continued until I became 17 years of age at which time I joined the United States Navy and left my hometown for a spell.

I next spent some time on Oklahoma where I learned the pleasure of sipping seven and sevens, that is, Seagram’s Seven Crown fine sipping whiskey mixed with Seven-Up soft drink.  Next I found myself located in Tennessee where I learned that some wines were awfully good, not necessarily good for me, but yet good.

Time kept passing, as it always does, and after a few months I went to spend some time in Pensacola, Florida.  Here, they had never heard of “Jenny” so I learned to appreciate the taste of Schlitz beer.  I had only recently attained my 18^th birthday.  I continued to research the taste of Schlitz, mostly on-tap, through stays in Quonset Point, Rhode Island; Argentia, Newfoundland; Chincoteague, Virginia; Norfolk, Virginia; Jacksonville, Florida, and a few places in between.

After three years in Jacksonville, I turned 25 years old in the summer of 1963, and on my birthday I left my wife and baby with her mother as I proceeded to travel to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.  When I arrived there I learned that there was no United States tax on liquor.  Now that made for an interesting situation.  Some of the finest Canadian whiskey ever produced in my opinion, Seagram’s Crown Royal, was about the same price as beer in the United States.  I left beer in favor of sipping whiskey again.

I spent three years in that utopian atmosphere of Gitmo, and during that length of time I learned it was impossible to drink all of the Seagram’s Crown Royal that could be produced so I gave up trying.  They beat me.  Other than an occasional beer with a friend, like one every five years or so, I’ve never drank alcohol since.