Have to share this story

[still crazy]

Recent events and Scottish boy has inspired me

As some of you may know I found this board after doing some research and trying to fulfill a promise I had made to my dad many years ago. That was I would teach my boys how to distill as his dad had taught him and so on. He passed away in 2002 at the age of 83. He was my mentor and as I realize probably my best friend.
He lived a very colorful and storied life. Growing up out in the western US. Being a mechanic/pilot on DC-3's during world war 2. ON D-Day he dropped the guys who the HBO series "A Band of Bothers" was about. When he returned from war he moved east to marry my mom whom he had met at a USO before shipping off over seas.
His dad was a potato farmer who had come to the US from Ireland during the potato famine and moved to Maine. My grandmothers health was not good and respiratory illness had the common treatment of moving to a dryer climate and hence he picked up and moved to Colorado. At that time he had a still which got packed up and taken on the trip.
Shortly after moving west he began to farm sugar beets in rotation with the potatoes. I'm sure lots of beets were rendered to the still.
When my grand dad passed the still made its way to Montana to one of his other sons. It eventually made a trip back east in 1957, before I was born, and into a special shed my dad had build to house it.
I grew up in an age where things were pretty laid back. The local police all knew of my dads "hobby" and were prone to coming around and hanging by the shed.
My dad was the type of guy that could read people like a book and if he didn't like you he would tell you to your face. I guess the old expression was "he doesn't suffer fools very well".
In the spring and fall the wood fired still kept the shed warm and many a night of chess, card games, hunting, fishing and bullshitting went on in there.
It became a gathering place for all sorts of "good" folks.
My mom is a pure Italian catholic girl who met this protestant Irishman. I think my strict Italian grandfather must have gotten schooled by his wife to let her date him. Maybe it was the fact that he keep a wine press in his basement and turned out about 1000 gallons of wine every year that made my dad and him bond. That and I think a farmboy who could slaughter and butcher anything grandpa could also played a big part.
In those days my grandfather had bought a huge area of land when he came to America. He had set aside lots for all of his 10 children to build house upon "the estate". Sadly he lost 1 son in the war. Most of the girls who married moved off to live where there husbands took them. This left 4 children to split up the lot which gave us lots of room to grow gardens and raise small livestock.
I think every kid in my neighborhood did there teething on honey and shine my dad would gladly supply.
We had huge neighborhood partys when I was a kid.
The wine would be set out on tables in gallon jugs and that homemade grape can be strong. It was considered an insult not to come to the parties and my grandfather was not a man you insulted. Trays filled with lasagna, eggplant, antipasto, spaghetti, ravioli, chicken, steaks, sausage, and loads of fresh picked vegetables. One neighbor had the guts to show up with hot dogs once, ... only once. There was also a fresh lamb at Easter. A pig roast and fireworks for 4th of July.
The kids also were never denied wine, granted you may have gotten the watered down version but you were always asked if you wanted it as far back as I can remember. We would play horseshoes, boccie and softball. Desserts would come out. Then as the evening set in there would be a bonfire and the shine would come out.
The guys would peel off to play cards and smoke cigars the woman would go into gossip group. Usually it was my grandmother taking someone under her wing and teaching them a new recipe. No matter where you were from in those days being in our neighborhood meant you were family.
When my grandparents passed away around 1970 things changed the family was still very tight all the kids got together often. As family's aged and the world got bigger, things moved faster, we still get together and it always comes up that we reminisce about the old days.
I have moved away from the "homestead" myself. When my dad passed I make it a point to make sure I spend a few days a week visiting my mom. Thursdays I trip over to her house and we either go out to dinner or she makes me a home cooked meal. She invites my sister and her family.
So last night I was over eating a nice roast pork with the onions cooked around it in the pan and the sliced up taters simmered in the pork juices, some eggplant parmigiana and a Caesar salad ( I make the BEST dressing if anyone wants my recipe) and mom says "I saw AL at bingo Tuesday night, we had a nice chat he wants you to call him... tonight"
Now Al was one of my dads best buds. He told me my first dirty joke in front of my dad, you know the one that if you understand it you know what sex is type. He is a guy who keeps to himself despite the 5 ex-wives, no kids though. He will ask me to stop by his place every now an then to do some odd job for him. Hes just turned 89 and the guys sharp as a tack. So here I am thinking , damn wonder what he need done now. I give him a call and very matter of factly he says come on over right away, thats the conversation. He doesn't wait for a reply as I hear him hang up.
I hop in the truck and head on over. He comes to the door with his walker that you know I have to tease him about needing and he presently tells me to fuck off so I know hes still not taking shit.
Sits himself down and lights up a Marlboro red offers me one, I quit 30 years ago, but I do have a cigar and fire that up. Might as well get comfortable, I can tell from him sitting and not telling me right up front what he needs doing that this is going to be a bullshit session. I quickly scan the table for a cribbage board cause this old dog will "penny a point" ya into the poor house if ya let him. Why don't you grab some glasses out of the cupboard he directs me and as I do I can hear his chair creaking as hes digging ice out of the freezer. I put down the glasses and he drops 2 cubes in each glass. "Don't want to bruise the good shit" he winks at me. Reaching down under the table he come up with a 1/4 full half gallon mason jar. One look at his shit eating grin and I know thats my dads goodie in that jar.
"So, he says as I stare transfixed at his wrinkled old hands pouring out the liquor as if its a bomb that could explode if I look away, I had a nice talk with your mom at bingo, I understand your going to be able to refill this for me soon". Son of a bitch my hearts going like a freight train downhill I know I said what as if I didn't hear him, but I know I did. He repeats himself with a chuckle. My minds screaming taste it as I pick up the glass, I think I may have even had wood, but who was paying attention there. I bring up the glass and swirl the cubes the scent of heaven as a memory goes racing by in my nasal cavity. Almost afraid I taste it and the flood of emotion was over me as the drops slide down the slow heat starts in my toes and courses threw me.
I look up and you would have thought he was giving me a million dollars guys got the widest grin I have ever seen him have. All I can say is "damn it Al put your darn teeth in". We break out in a warm hearted laugh and share the rest of the glass. I am buoyant and we chat and reminisce. I know I am a babbling idiot I am so giddy. I savor every drop and as we finish the glasses I am overjoyed as he reaches back for more ice and says "lets have another, that's of course if you think you can handle it". This time there's 3 cubes and he hands me the jar to pour it out. As I pour he says don't be shy finish it off. I am elated but saddened at the same time. I want to drink it but in doing so I end an era, but its his house his bottle who am I to argue. Had I know what I was going for I would have brought a Cuban for this event. We raise our glasses and toast my dad, he didn't get the words out of his mouth and his eyes were teary, I grab us both a paper towel as I'm looking back threw my own tears. We bullshit some more and he starts talking about being tired looking at the clock I realize its just onto midnight. He hoists himself up and tells me to grab the jar and follow him. Making his way out of the kitchen he heads down the hall with me in tow.
Stopping he open the closet door and pulls on light chain. He reaches in the closet and holds back the coats and says fill that jar will ya. If the night couldn't have had more surprises I am dumbfounded sitting crosswise in the back of the closet is a 25 gallon wine cask and the smell in that closet is not old man smell its an oaken sweetness. I kneel before the cask as if I'm going to ask it to marry me and open the spigot. The flow tells me that this cask is plenty full. I am putting all my attention on not spilling a drop and at the same time thinking you dirty old bastard holding out on me all this time. When he says " I want you to take that with you". The jar I say as I immediately try to figure out how to fill it to the brim and still get more. "No, he says, leave the jar, you take the barrel" holy shit I think I just crapped myself. "I can always call you to refill the jar if I live long enough to need it".
This morning after a full nights sleep, I sleep over my moms on Thursdays and head from there to work. Oh ya I am out sick today. I went back over to Al's took him to breakfast and then went back to retrieve my prize. I stopped at the UPS store and got a nice solid box and a load of packing peanuts and carefully as a nitroglycerin truck made my way home. My boys are at work and when they get home I should have the "cradle" built to mount my baby in.
Who said April 1 was for fools.
Hope I haven't bored ya to death, wish I could have you all by for a taste. By the way this barrel was given to Al in 1990 after his last wife died. He told me he had stuff in mason jars so he tapped it for the first time around Memorial day 2008. My dad turned his last batch in 1998.

[rednose]

Wonderful story SC, good for a teardrop or two.

If you ever write a book please let me know.

Have a great Eastern

[blind drunk]

Yeah, great piece. Definitely a drop or two. Triggered many of my own memories around food, family and friends. Cheers, bd.

PS - I'll take a signed copy of your book when you write it!!

[Braz]

Nice story. Thanks for taking the time to write and post it.

Braz

[LWTCS]

Nice, very nice.
God bless you and yours.

[djc]

Great story! Made me shed a couple of tears

[LWTCS]

Had a few to digest that.
Al must have been one of your Dad's dearest friends.
If you get a chance, please send kindest regards to Mr. Al

I hope you get a chance to have Al help you with some evaluating on your most ruthless cuts. Surely would help him I'm sure.

[HookLine]

I kneel before the cask as if I'm going to ask it to marry me

Great story, and well told.

[Ayay]

Wow. A tear is good for the soul an you gave me some. Sincere thanks.

[newerbrewer]

I made the mistake of reading this in front of company. Tough to xlplain the tears. Great story. Thanks for sharing.

Brew

[Fastill]

Now that was worth the time to read.
I can relate to many parts of your story!
(Just wish one of my fathers best friends would leave me a barrel full of +20 year old )

Great story!!

[Whitedog]

I was captivated! A wonderful well written account of your fond memories. A truly heartfelt and heart-touching literary piece. Thanks so much for taking the time and, I feel, the emotion that it took to compose!

[NcHooch]

wow, thanks for sharing SC. very touching.
...course I gotta ask, how was your dad's 20 year old hooch? ...best you ever had I recon.

Cheers,
NcHooch

[Samohon]

SC. Great memoir. You know, happiness is about great memories and the special people in them. Sadness, when they are taken from us and the memories cease to be made. Made me think of my past which is not dissimilar. God Bless you.

S.