Here's me in Boston, at the grave of Samuel Adams. I can't believe the gravestone mentions all that stuff about "Declaration of Independence" and "ardent patriot" but says nothing about him being a brewer. (Click on the pic if you want to actually be able to read the gravestone.)
And here's me in Healdsburg, Calif., at the Bear Republic brewpub, a day before the wedding of our friends Erin and Ben. I have no idea what I'm doing with my hand. It looks like I'm doing the "Hang Loose" sign, but I can't imagine that, because I'm certain I've never flashed that sign in my entire life, and I hope somebody would slap me if I did. Maybe I'm picking my nose.
2 comments:
My understanding is that Sam Adams really wasn't a brewer. His father was. Sam was a member of the bourgeoise leadership of a group that, in its street-level membership, consisted of a low-born pastle of rowdies and dockside thugs. The Brits would not have been inaccurate to have called them insurgents. We call them the Sons of Liberty.
Sam inherited the family business from dear old pop and promptly ran it into the ground.
Bush metaphors, anyone?
Gee Po, thanks for crushing my spirit and leaving me completely disillusioned about my heroes. Next I suppose you'll tell me that George Washington didn't actually cut down that cherry tree and then 'fess up about it.
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