Mr. Baaaaaartender

Hey, look! Made it to day 2. Two in a row! Two in a row!

Today’s prompt is “your earliest memory” and that’s actually a bit difficult since as a child, can you really differentiate what’s earlier than something else? Or can you differentiate those memories as an adult?

Fortunately, as an adult with one live adult parent and one who has passed, I can openly speak about these memories and you can go somewhere else with your judgement. There are two things that stick out for me as my earliest memories.

In case you didn’t know, I’m a child of the early ’70s. Obviously not the free love period of time, but shit was loose back then, or so I’ve heard. I have had stories told to me about the time I ate a Black Beauty that had fallen down into the couch when I was around 3, but I don’t remember that. There was a time that I packed up my couple of stuffed animals in a grocery bag and told my mom I was running away (all the way to my grandmother’s house about 30 yards away – 90 feet, not 30 people’s yards) and as I walked out the door I looked at her and told her to be good. There was that time at Easter when one of my dad’s friends got me a chocolate Easter bunny that was as big as me – there’s photo proof of that one. But the two things that I have memories of would get my parents tossed in jail these days and me and my brother in foster care. Mind you, it was the early ’70s and my brother and I both turned out fine and again, go judge your mama.

Memory 1: Do you know what hash is? I’m not talking about the stuff with potatoes and meat in it. I’m talking about concentrated marijuana. The good shit (back then). I can distinctly remember the hash smoking process. Materials include one glass, one piece of cardboard, and one pin. The pin goes through the cardboard and the hash goes on the end of the pin. Fire that sucker up and put the glass over it and let the smoke collect in the glass and then suck it out. Yep, that’s what I remember. I can actually see it in my mind right now, but not because I’ve ever done it. I’m no angel, but smoking has come a long way since then.

Memory 2: This one goes along with the video. Back in the day, we had a beermeister. Keggerator. Whatever you want to call it. A keg in our house. Probably not a full keg, probably more like a quarter. But that bad boy was tapped and had a handle just like many bars. When dad had friends over, I was the runner. Of course I was taking a little off the top for myself until I worked out the perfect angle to pour those beers with a perfect head. Yeah, it’s really no wonder that I feel quite at home behind a bar. I’ve been slanging dranks since I was under 5.

Yup, those are my earliest memories. I had a raucous childhood that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I mean, country living was country living. We ran around naked in the rain and under the drainage spout. I ran through the yard and took a corner too fast and slid in some dog shit, lol. We barbequed. We lived. We laughed. We loved. And I came out on the other side this badass motherfucker that I am. Win.

See you tomorrow.

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