Beer Moment

Not a great beer, but maybe the best beer he’s ever had.

My son-in-law shipped out for Iraq last August and it seemed a different world last summer when we were packing up my daughter’s household goods to bring she and my granddaughter back to Arizona from Camp Pendleton. A sense of foreboding was certainly there with us as we worked.

Cleaning out the refrigerator was simple enough: anything that wouldn’t make the trip as road food was tossed out or packed for restocking the pantry in Arizona. I considered the lone bottle of Miller Lite that my son-in-law had left behind in the refrigerator. Not knowing what the future would bring but wanting some link to the time, I salvaged that bottle and carted it home in the back of the U-haul truck, explaining that I planned to make my son-in-law drink it upon his safe return from overseas.

The lonely bottle of Lite resided in my refrigerator for a time, was exiled to the garage for a spell, and then rather unceremoniously dumped into a cooler of ice this past weekend following my son-in-laws safe return to the United States. He spent an uneventful few months at a place called Al Asad and came home in one piece. Thank heaven. Now mind you, this bottle of Lite wasn’t the first beer we shared upon his return, but rather the last beer we popped open right before he packed up to head back to Camp Pendleton.

I’ve had warm beer. I’ve had skunky beer. I’ve had stolen beer and beer that was paid for out of my pocket and out of the pocket of others. I’ve had lots of Miller Lite. This particular Miller Lite was nothing to write home about if you consider it solely for it’s taste value, but if you consider the story behind this particular bottle of Miller Lite, I guess you might say that, for one of us at least, regardless of the quality, this beer must rate right up there as a lifetime best.