Places To Do things Part IV: Places To Have a Drink

Places to have a drink. Now that is a big and important subject. It begins at the very basic level of survival as infants feed at their mother’s breast as did I. It continues with getting pure water as we did from the well and from the windmill pumped water from the water tower. It includes the unparalleled pleasure of drinking from a special container in the 100-degree heat of a Texas cotton field.

Yet, at least in the English language, “ place to have a drink “ usually refers to a place to enjoy an alcoholic beverage or two. It is in that context that I want to reminisce a bit. For most of my childhood there were two places where my dad might have a drink: the two saloons in the two near-by towns of Walburg and Theon. Dad went there rarely and I went along even more rarely. I recall their starkness, with just a short bar and very few tables and no food being served. Two things made a deep impression on me. One was that I got to drink a strawberry soda (and it wasn’t even the time for the annual school picnic). The second was that even as kid I always sensed the respect shown my father. He was the parochial school teacher and everyone in the bar had at one time or another been his pupil; so they were conscious of serving or drinking with their “teacher”.

Since I went to a religious boarding prep school there was virtually no drinking. As we neared the age of 18 we discovered a Mexican restaurant that was not too diligent about checking age ID”s and sold Carta Blanca beer from Mexico to us on those very rare occasions someone had a birthday and the parents had sent a little money for a birthday party.

Things got more exciting and romantic once I got into college. When my Uncle Otto came into town in the loop in Chicago he invited me to his hotel “for a beer”. I will always remember that they did not ask me for an ID, and more important: Uncle Otto paid $1.00 for that beer. That was unprecedented for I had never heard of a beer costing more than 25 cents. In college I fell in love with Jane. We seldom had hard liquor for the simple reason that we had no money for it. However, on a special occasion we would find our way down to Circle Avenue in Forest Park and furtively enter Otto’s. The booths were dark and secluded. Bourbon and Seven-Up and love flowed.

In Hong Kong I learned the unequalled pleasure of a cold beer (or two) after a round of golf. My British friends drank it warm and sometimes mixed with ginger beer, but for me that cold San Miguel was ambrosia, especially at 17 cents a bottle! In Hong Kong I was also introduced to pub life at the Neptune Inn where Guinness was augmented not only with sausage and mash but also with darts!

Later in the States our annual church conventions provided a very cherished opportunity for a drink, song and fellowship. Carloads of fellows (yes, only guys) made it to a bar in downtown Ann Arbor. There we enjoyed beer but equally as much we enjoyed song, all kinds of songs from rowdy college ditties to Lutheran hymns. Everything was in beautiful harmony. In those moments theological differences and ecclesiastic policies took back seat to wonderful reverie, friendship and just plain good feelings

I also recall a time or two I really wanted a place to drink but none was available. I was working in Australia. Working very hard, in fact. I led workshops, dealt with very touchy legal issues, traveled all over, and did TV interviews. All without a drink, for my wonderful hosts from the clergy of the Uniting Australian Church did not condone the drinking of alcohol. Then came an evening when my hosts announced they would return late and I was on my own. “Perfect,” I mused. In Australia there are bars everywhere as Aussies really enjoy hoisting a few. So as soon as my hosts left I went out on foot searching for the nearest pub. Two hours later I trudged back home, having found not a single bar or establishment at which I might enjoy the first beer in a month! I survived.

Another and much sadder memory. At the Top of The World Trade Center there was a marvelous cocktail lounge named the Hors de ouverie. The MaitreDe was very professional and appreciative of tips to get the best table in the house. I loved to take visitors and especially visiting family there to sip a glass of wine and marvel at the spectacular views of New York. We all know what happened to that site and I mourn all of those consequences, the least of which is my loss of a place for a drink, and I honor the memory of all who did at one time or other stopped in there and found a wonderful place for a drink.

Now, I know of the potential evils of drink. I have seen the devastating effects of alcoholism. I know of its potential for ruining lives. Yet because of the pleasure it brings when used in moderation and especially with good friends I join the Psalmist in being grateful for a little wine, which gladdens the heart

One last place that has on occasion been a great place for a drink. That is when I have been on a very difficult assignment, have worked long hours, have finally finished my speeches or workshops, accomplished all my errands, cleared the hassles of airport security, gotten up-graded to first class and hear the flight attendant ask “Now sir, what can I get you to drink?” That’s when 35000 feet above sea level can be the best place of all to just have a little drink.