A little more than two weeks ago, I topped off a pretty challenging couple of months with a ruptured appendix. Emergency surgery, not being able to urinate without searing pain for days, having tubes in me like a tapeworm draining into a container, and ingesting some nasty antibiotics that precluded any beer consumption. In all, I was verboten to drink beer for three weeks. 21 days. That has to be a record for me.
When I first became a Christian, I stopped drinking beer for years at a time. Then, I moderated back to embracing spirits, albeit much less volume. I even ashamedly drank O’Douls. What a waste.
Reformers such as Luther and Calvin liked their beer so a very good case can be made that WWJD? (What Would Jesus Drink?) would include beer, wine, and perhaps even the stiffer stuff. Fundies who seem so committed to biblical literalism do quite the twisting of the Word to evade His first miracle. An enormous amount of wine. Something like 150 gallons. And it was good. No shitty Mad Dog. Or Bud Light.
Last Sunday, coming back from Church, I just happened to be passing my favorite beer beverage store. I don’t normally shop on the Sabbath, but it was along the way and I was saving gas and time by not having to drive back later in the week. Another biblical principle is to rest on Sunday and cease from commerce but like most principles there is a little leeway and give. Not a hard and fast rule. Exceptions do exist. I knew that I was going to be drinking on the following Friday.
As it was, there was no debate that I was going for a case of Dogfish. The only questions was what type of Dogfish was I reeling in. I decided on the Raison D’Etre. Ever since me and three buddies made a holy pilgrimage in the dead of winter to Rehoboth, DE, to partake of the sacred brews, I have had a special place in my heart for Dogfish. Like a Salmon, I seek to return to her waters.
BTW, the definition of Raison D’Etre is the purpose for something as in “Art is his raison d’être.” I first heard this saying when it was employed by some pompous sounding woman in a college writing class dialoguing with the instructor. The professor also was acting all uppity so I promptly dropped the course figuring that I could find a better teacher than some hack who bandied about fancy terms with his pets in class like the silver spoon set playing tennis on grass in their white garb. No thanks. Writing is not fine china. It should be real and authentic. Sometimes jagged.
What is wonderful about Dogfish is that it is a beautiful brewery without being all uppity and snobby. It is clear Sam C. likes himself but that is not wrong in my book. He’s got some Rocky in him. People who work to accomplish a dream and make it happen are accorded the highest esteem in my eyes. No envy here. He has worked his ass off and is reaping the success. Good for him, good for us. Long live the dreamers in an increasingly dullard society that wants to be spoonfed.
This beer is a work of art indeed. Perfect for a cold wintery snowy night in Pennsylvania. As my friends and I hoofed across Lancaster City last evening, while the flakes fell in the light of the streetlights as shooting stars, the Raison D’Etre warmed our hearts and bellies and cast a shiny glow on the evening. It was a wonderful first beer after three weeks of abstention. Amen, and Amen (really pious religious folk say Amen twice).