Here's me and my bro, I think St. Patrick's Day 1995. I'd brewed my first batch of homebrew and was so proud of myself I held a party to push the stuff on the semi-willing pallets of every single person I knew.
It was a good party. Even friends who thought my neighborhood at the time was too scary came out. My heiress friend, the most talented photographer on earth, the craziest actor I've ever even heard of, one of the best known psychics in the Midwest, that chick I turned gay. They all came to my St. Patrick's Day homebrew party. I'll have to see if I can't dig up some other pics from that party. The photographer in question got this one of Robert the Psychic.
I mentioned I was proud of this first batch, right?
I remember I called it IRA: Irish Real Ale. A bullshit style if ever there was, but I had yet to discover the inner realm of beer geekdom and become a card carrying National ranked BJCP judge.
At the time, just the fact that it was potable seemed a miracle.
Here's my brother with me and our Mom at his graduation, Summa Cum Laude from SBU. I remember thinking it was amazing how many honors students they graduated. The school was a bit strict on the subject of substances. You could literally be expelled just for using tobacco. So nobody enrolled there is hanging out in a bar when he should be studying. If he's that kind of student, he'll stick to a regular college where that's the norm. This school's policy was if a student was pulled over for a DUI and someone asked, they'd say 'You must mean a former student.'
Kids willing to knuckle down to no alcohol or tobacco under any circumstances on or off campus, they're weird, but they burn up the grades. It's nothing I'd want for myself, but if your priority is an education instead of perfecting a buzz and having random, casual sex, I guess SBU is the place for you.
And to switch gears, here's a not quite as young me so proud of a jack-o-lantern you'd think I made a batch of beer or something.
Then there's me at the Adrian Steam Engine Festival posing by a very sweet 69 or 70 Toronado. I'm not a big muscle car guy, but those old Toros are special. It's basically a Camaro but one that the Olds folks have worked over. Why not be comfortable while running from the cops?
The last of the old pictures is depressing. My step-brother Todd, back when he could still walk around and talk to you. Looks a bit glazed here, which could have been the meds or his substitutes for them. I don't remember the occasion well enough to say. The lithium was, according to him, 'looking at the world through a veil.'
1 comment:
Oh, honey, you didn't turn me gay. But thanks for reminding me of that party. I think I have a picture or two from it myself.
I don't think I loved the IRA beer, but Pat & I both loved your circa 2003 mead! :)
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