93 years ago today my Dad was born. 63 years after that he flew away. On the first two anniversaries of his death my brother and I got together over drinks to celebrate him. We called it “creature night” because we learned one day that whiskey, being what it is, is known as the Devils drink so when one said in the old days “Give me a shot of the creature” it meant a shot of whiskey.
At the time neither one of us were big whiskey drinkers and our inexperience led us to two of the worst hangovers we’ve ever had … or at least me.
There’s one story about the first time that makes even the hardest person cringe when I tell it so I won’t share it here. Suffice to say it was either one of my proudest drinking moments or one of my worst personal ones.
We haven’t gotten together in many years to celebrate it but have decided to hook up tonight and lift one in his memory.
I said ONE, as in singular.
I’ll let you know tomorrow how successful I was.
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