Last week myself, Darco, MC, and Jim took a family vacation. We wound up at Montauk State Park; a state park that I had grown up going to. It’s where I learned to put a hook on my line, catch fish, string them, and survive sleeping outside in 90℉+ heat.
While we were unpacking last Sunday, Jim made note that coworker told him that he needs to lighten up, relax, and have a beer when out camping. Jim made the following statement:
My step-son enjoys beer. Maybe we’ll have a beer down there.
It dawned on me that through all the cheesy accomplishments of being a family, Jim and I had never had a beer together. We lived in a household where beer was never allowed. It wasn’t something that we talked about until I was 26*. Father/son beer is the American thing to do, right? That’s like working on a car together, putting up a tent, or attending a sports event. You just do those kind of things together.
Wednesday night, the evening before we went back home, Jim and I each enjoyed a pint of ‘Crankbait Cream Ale’ from Piney River Brewery.
Nothing special at the moment as we enjoyed trout, watermelon, and other goods at the table. It wasn’t until after coming home that I truly enjoyed reflecting on that one moment.
It was cliche, but also iconic. I’ve known Jim for 24 years, and I’ve gone from being absolutely terrified of him to enjoying a classic American pass time with him.
Thanks Piney River Brewing for coming in the clutch on a random vacation for a pretty cool father/son moment. I know internally it’ll be something I forever cherish.
*Southern Baptist Doctrine Logic: Beer=Sex=Dancing