There’s something about springtime that compels me to remember my youth. It’s remarkably hackneyed to have these remembrances, and I try to shove them off, knowing that they’re empty, knowing that they’re shells of memories that ought to be tinged with a sadness of what’s been lost. In the end, I fight off that urge to remember the whole and embrace the part that my mind asks me to recapture. I throw off the fringes of the memory that taint the innocence of the image I hold in my head. I remember Sunday mornings with my mother,...
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Things I Drink And So Should You: The Charles River Highball
It is Easter weekend, which is about the busiest my calendar gets every year. I have hardly had time to breathe this week, let alone read this blog, never mind contribute. The craziness of my schedule has even prevented me from doing that which I love most: watch sports and drink. And that all ends Sunday afternoon. Every Easter, I throw a Resurrection Barbecue, where we throw some ham on the grill, dressed in our Sunday best, drinking beer and, more importantly, breaking out the greatest summer drink you\’ve never had: The Charles River Highball. The Charles...
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