But, as I always say, such is life and you just roll with it. Adjust and move on.
But , oh, how I would love me some iced cold San Miguel. Not so much for the said inebriated vertiginous effects it would produce, but the whole nostalgia of it all.
You get a group of people together, add a little beer, and you’ll be telling stories you have no business telling people while you’re sober. You do goofy, silly things, like paint your nails a flaming red color...seeing it was his first attempt at a manicure, I was rather impressed (no names mentioned). You sing, you dance, you laugh and life seems a little lighter a little less stressed. Then, afterwards, you walk away with fond memories.
One of those fond memories is of my Dad and his close friends sitting around a table . Usually a strict and serious man, he always relaxed after a “bit” of alcohol. They would talk about the past, about things probably not fit for polite company, but hilarious nonetheless. Conversations would then change about how life was when they were younger in the Philippines before he came to the U.S.
Certainly, there are those out there, in which alcohol has destroyed their family’s lives. Thankfully, I am not one of them. But I can’t always say that all the memories have been good.
There was one New Year’s Eve party awhile ago with a group of close friends and families that I remember well. My oldest was a newborn then, and my Mom and Dad were upstairs watching him with the other family members. This was when we all still lived close enough to have get-togethers. Those were nice times. But I remember my cousin, (no names mentioned), passed out after a few hours of carousing at my old house where I grew up. All of us each took a turn watching him on the couch to make sure he was OK. The countdown to midnight started and we all yelled Happy New Year loudly in his ear when the time came. He was completely out.
The following day we celebrated the coming of the New Year at my aunt’s house. There was a lot of delicious food and one of my favorites was hot and sour soup. But it didn’t look so delicious the next day. I remember my mother being so upset with us because we had to leave as soon as we got there. We were all so nauseated and my cousin was still at my house comatose on the couch.
But I do have fond memories of iced cold beer. The way we lose our vulnerability, our inhibitions, and some of our fears after we consume the intoxicating beverage, is what lures some of us to drink.
So, I raise a glass in honor of that San Miguel beer, that, every once and awhile I do crave. Too bad the glass I raise is filled with decaffeinated iced tea. Sigh.
