Part 1: A boy who liked beer.

I like beer. A lot. I know that isn’t profound and I sort of assume that everyone likes beer on some level. I have always liked beer, ever since before I was legally able to have it. My parents were great at demystifying alcohol and would allow me and my siblings to have sips of various drinks (mostly beer or wine) to see what they were like.

As I was growing up, the only beers that were available were pretty bland and uninspired. Outside of the national brands like Budweiser, Miller, Pabst, or Schlitz, there were regional variations like Coors, Lucky Lager, Olympia, Rainier, and Henry Weinhard’s. Since we were in Oregon, my dad generally had Lucky, or Olympia, or Rainier. Later it was mostly Weinhard’s.

The first beer I was allowed to have to myself was a Lucky Lager. The great thing about Lucky Lager was that its bottle caps were unique. On the inside of each was a pictograph, so you could decode it while sipping on your beer. After a day of helping my dad move rocks in our garden, I asked if I could have one. After a moment of thought, he said, “sure, why not.” I was only 9, and I finished maybe a quarter of it before deciding I was done. But, having my own beer made me feel pretty manly -- like I had contributed to the work of the day and that I was respected. Oddly enough, while I continued to like beer and would regularly ask for a sip if my dad had one open, I didn’t ask for my own again until sometime in my late teenage years.

It was the summer that I turned 10 that a new world of beer opened up to me. My dad was in the process of leaving his job in Portland to work in Central California, and we took the interlude to go to Europe. My parents bought an olive green Volkswagen Camper Van and we toured around Europe free camping for about 4 months. One of the stops was Munich, where we went to the beer garden at the Hofbrauhaus. The beer was served in liter glass mugs and they were everywhere. And, since we were in Europe, I was allowed to have a few sips of the dark amber lager my dad ordered (I’m assuming a Marzen). As much as I liked the beer my dad usually had, this German beer was a revelation.

So, from the age of 10 onward, I was a committed beer snob.

Lucky Lager Beer