The last of my Brews Brothers beer, this was a welcome escape from (what I at first thought was) a thoroughly shitty day last week. Allow me to explain…
Not getting much sleep, feeling overwhelmed at work, feeling overwhelmed with the S2SBG Empire and the secondary writing oppurtunities said empire has spawned, getting over a cold, visiting a rare valley with MBW in what is usually a relationship full of peaks, today was pure guano and I wanted rid of it ASAP. To potentially set aside some of the Suck, I wanted a beer I could stew with on the back porch. No NEIPA would do on this day: I didn’t need a crushable can, what I needed was flavour of imperial proportions, forcing me to sit down, sip slowly and take stock. Enter the Coffee Imperial Stout collaboration beer by Parallel 49 Brewing Company and The Parkside Brewery.
I’d tried this one previously, on location at P49, and was fully aware of its imperial power. For me this was the stand-out beer in a box that held many. And as I savoured the strong coffee overtones and bitter cocoa undertones, the turmoil that had roiled within died down to manageable levels. And as the elixir further worked its magic I looked around me and realized the folly of my frame of mind: lack of perspective.
I hadn’t had a shitty day, I haven’t had a truly shitty day, ever. I won the lottery by being born in Canada to two loving parents. Thru no virtue of my own I came kicking and screaming into paradise on earth. There are folks out there on this blue-green planet that, thru no fault of their own, have been born into bedlam, the likes of which I’ll never know.
As with all beer I consume these days, there is a pull at play that I must submit to lest I disappear into obscurity. I must take a photo of my liquid conquests. This pull to post pics on social media is a monster of my own creation that potentially builds my brand and hopefully fishes more followers from the mire that is Instagram. This is a muck I’ve chosen to swim in, mind you! There’s no woe is me here, only a constant craving for likes and engagement. But that’s a tangent for another time.
So I looked around me for a place to take a photograph of this remarkable beer and I found my Father’s rocking horse. Truth be told, the wooden equine belongs to my daughter and son, but it was my Father who cut, shaped & sanded, bolted and lovingly Pinocchio’d the thing to life. Perfect. I placed my custom-engraved S2SBG glass and the bottle the black gold came from on the step of the rocking horse and snapped a couple pics.
Then the reality of my fortune came even further into focus. My Dad’s not only helped me become the man I am today, but continually adds to the well-being of the offspring of his offspring. My children have a loving grandfather and my father loves his grandchildren. My good fortune continues.
And so I must check my privilege and ensure that the words “shitty” and “day” are never uttered in the same breath when describing anything to do with me. Thanks Dad, for all you’ve done to help me and mine along the way: Happy Father’s Day.
As the sun set over the roof over my head, I finished my beer and went to bed.
And slept peacefully for seven solid hours.
*Dad don’t read this part. I was going to write, “Fucking Perspective”, but as my father doesn’t really care for the cuss words I left that one out.