Willamette Week
Published April 19, 2016
The first Christmas after I turned 21, my grandfather offered me whiskey. This was a big deal—my grandma only let him have two bottles of Crown Royal a year for health reasons, so he guarded the stuff with his life. When I said I wanted it only with a couple rocks, my grandma couldn't contain her joy and hugged me with tears in her eyes.
"You're becoming a man!" she exclaimed.
You sit down with Dad or Granddad for that first beer, or Mom for a martini up with a twist, and it's like you've crossed through the looking glass. You've joined them in a new, adult world where everything is slower, funnier and a little more stupid. Finally, you're equals.