Front Porch Chats #109

Lenzbock from Heater Allen in glass, outside

The Lenzbock from Heater Allen has a very typical Pilsner nose-that old school funk of cheap beer you remember your parents drank-but the flavors are very different. With a heavy malt focus, this beer boosts the grain profile. It reminds me of being at the home brew shop, rummaging through two row, six row, maris otter grains, trying to see what base malt I was in the mood for.

The finish is a little challenging to me though: well after the beer is gone, there is a almost sour quality that arises in the space between my cheek and gums. Not sure what to make of that. This beer is interesting and possibly requires a second opinion.

The rain has persisted further into the spring than usual, and for me it’s started to highlight the wear and tear of winter. Streets with potholes getting deeper, water accumulating in places it wasn’t before.

And all around me, what I see it patchwork. Band aids. The stopgap measures that are used to keep something in tact until the weather breaks and actual work can be done. That wouldn’t bother me except that I’ve been seeing it for years.

Decades, if I really think about it. There is something to the idea that ‘back in the day, they built things to last’. I know; I saw Tonka trucks go from metal to plastic.

Kids wreck plastic shit. Metal things get passed down.

But even the built to last stuff wears out, eventually. All that was offered to us was more patches. Patches upon patches.

Which leads me to ask: where is the investment in my generation? In the generations that follow me-there are at least two now. Where’s our country’s support for them?

Mine was the first one to crash upon the beach, barely able to afford the things our parents had, debt into our eyeballs, and we arrived with a ‘whew, we made it’ instead of ‘why is this so fucking hard?’

Or really it was both but because we actually accomplished something, maybe it didn’t feel that bad. We didn’t know all the things our parents struggled to do-and some of the struggled pretty hard.

Since the 1980’s (obligatory ‘fuck you, Ronald Reagan’), all I have heard about is how ‘government is wasteful of YOUR tax dollars’ and policies, every single one of them that helped sustain people-from school lunches to housing developments to loans for housing, or education, to ideas about helping people get healthcare, all falling to the wayside in the name of ‘not wasting dollars’.

What about investing my goddamn money in us?

Why hasn’t that been a priority?

Instead the infrastructure crumbles, the patches fray and break, the big ideas are screamed down for greed and fear, and goddamnit, I just want to write a beer blog, people.

I want to kiss lovely people who want to kiss me, and have a pint, and not work too fucking hard, and help protect friends from the ravishes of life.

I don’t want to starve (mentally, emotionally), or see babies starve (literally), because we were too fucking cheap to invest in ourselves, in the people who will, and should, outgrow us. Because someone decided we were too scared to share with Black people or poor people or queer people.

But the work still needs to be done. And I am here to do it. I’m not afraid to share; there’s enough for everyone, if you let it. Let’s go. And uh, finish off the beer first, eh? A person feels a little better after a day of work, if they can have a pint.

The stories tell me so.

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