Day 2 - Trying to remember, part I
I've been trying to recall the first time I tried a sip of alcoholic beverage. I'm pretty sure it was at a family picnic, or up at the cottage on some holiday, probably the 4th of July. It could have been any day though; my family and my environment growing up in Wisconsin in the late 60's early 70's was awash in beer and cocktails (wine, outside of the occasional bottle of Lambrusco, or the fortified Boons Farm, Mad Dog and the like, was not really on anyone's radar. Yet.)
But for some reason I feel like it was at the cottage. I see my Grandpa A. chuckling as I took a sip of warmish Budwiser from his can. I don't recall liking it or not. I do recall feeling like it was something special, something from the exotic land of adulthood that found it's way into my 6 year old world. I felt like it was something good.
There were no admonishments from my parents that I can remember, though truth be told, my memory is not what it used to be, or should be I suppose. Plus the adult influences were also half lit, as that was what you did on sultry summer day or night in any-town Wisconsin circa 1970. It was just what you did on any holiday, family gathering, fishing trip, funeral, wedding, graduation, good time, bad time, boring time; when you got home from work or went bowling or golfing or skating, or skiing or just rowing your boat down the muddy Manitowoc river. Alcohol was always a constant companion to the moments of our lives.
So a first sip at a young age was like an initiation into my future as a true Wisconsinite, a member of that tribe that waves the flag of "beer state" far higher than it's other banner, "Americas Dairy Land"
I think it's because of this normalization of habitual drinking, this acceptance and pride that booze is part of it's cultural identity, an entire state put the blinders on when it caused any sort of problem. And certainly, so did I.
But for some reason I feel like it was at the cottage. I see my Grandpa A. chuckling as I took a sip of warmish Budwiser from his can. I don't recall liking it or not. I do recall feeling like it was something special, something from the exotic land of adulthood that found it's way into my 6 year old world. I felt like it was something good.
There were no admonishments from my parents that I can remember, though truth be told, my memory is not what it used to be, or should be I suppose. Plus the adult influences were also half lit, as that was what you did on sultry summer day or night in any-town Wisconsin circa 1970. It was just what you did on any holiday, family gathering, fishing trip, funeral, wedding, graduation, good time, bad time, boring time; when you got home from work or went bowling or golfing or skating, or skiing or just rowing your boat down the muddy Manitowoc river. Alcohol was always a constant companion to the moments of our lives.
So a first sip at a young age was like an initiation into my future as a true Wisconsinite, a member of that tribe that waves the flag of "beer state" far higher than it's other banner, "Americas Dairy Land"
I think it's because of this normalization of habitual drinking, this acceptance and pride that booze is part of it's cultural identity, an entire state put the blinders on when it caused any sort of problem. And certainly, so did I.
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