We Boys

     If you grew up in Italy, your first exposure to alcohol would have no doubt been wine. Likewise, Russia is to vodka as Germany is to beer. I grew up in East Kentucky. Both of my Grandfathers drank Kentucky Straight Bourbon. This is the story of my first experience with alcohol which came to me in the from of good ol' KY bourbon.

     It was the summer of 1990. I was twelve. My grandparents houseboat creaked back and forth atop the blackish green murky lake in East Kentucky. It was nightfall. The clinking of dishes could be heard from the boat kitchen. My grandmother, dressed to the nines, stood scrubbing the grease from the pots. My grandfather sat in a lounge chair sipping Makers Mark and conversing with other family members on the front deck. The giant avocado colored luna moths swooped in erratic circular motions around the outdoor lamps. They were the size of small bats, and we boys tried to kill or capture them with our flyswatters.

     The stereo was always tuned to 101.1. This was the radio station that my family owned in Hazard Kentucky. The signal would sometimes fade in a snow of static crackles.  On Sundays local church sermons would be broadcasted. As we ran round the boat the sound of Southern Appalachian Pentecostal preachers would ring out in the humid night air. The country preaching was more like singing; rising and falling in rhythmic waves. A thick cover of fog rolled over the lake. The boat still smelled of bacon grease from the evening meal.

     My mothers high voice was heard clear over the radio. "Boys its getting late. Grab your shoes!" At this moment, I found myself in the master bedroom. I was with a friend. "Want to see something cool!" I said rushing him, knowing that Mom would be asking for us. I took him over to a trunk that was normally locked. I opened it up and pulled out a leather decanter. It looked like it could have come off a 16th century pirate ship.

     "What's in it?" my friend said. "I think its liquor." I did not know what "liquor" was. Perhaps I lacked the bravery before to try it alone. Perhaps I was more prone to dive in because Mom could have walked in at any moment. Ether way, I took the plunge and swilled two big gulps. I recollect above all the burn. The feeling of kerosene trickling slowly down my throat and landing in my belly. At age twelve your not exactly doing a lot of bourbon flavor profile analysis. Its just fire in you mouth. I kind of liked it in a strange way. Similarly to when you eat extremely spicy food and it makes you fill alive. I then passed the decanter to my friend. He took a sip and said nothing. I thought that maybe if I took another sip I will get to feeling funny on the walk to the car. I wanted to feel funny, so I took another fast gulp then  quickly threw the decanter back in the trunk and announced "Coming Mom!"

     We gathered up our things and told our grandparents goodnight. We walked down the long skinny ramp that lead across to the marina. Our sneakers squeaked and squashed with every step. It was a gross feeling of bare feet in wet shoes. Our untied laces flopped as we listened to the sound of bugs getting juiced in the overhead purple/blue florescent zappers. Folks would be fishing off that ramp till daybreak; Silently staring into the lime green water. Beer cans in hand. Cheeks swollen with chew. As we walked passed them in the dark, the sound of occasional spit into the lake was the only silence breaker.

     We nearly reached the parking lot and the liquor was not making me feel funny. It did make me feel a little grown up, even if I had to sneak it. "Maybe I didn't drink enough." I thought. Oh well, it didn't matter. We were soon playing games and singing songs on the way home.  My friend said nothing of it. Perhaps, this is an unsensational story. It was, however, my first encounter with alcohol. It was also my first experience with Kentucky Straight Bourbon, which is always sensational! It would not be my last.

     That old leather decanter was always around at my grandparents house for many decades. The last time I saw it, it was pretty beat up. If I ever see it again I'll try to arrange to have it in my home bar some day. 

This photo was taken on the houseboat around this same time. I am on the far right.