A blue ribbon babe
People often ask me, “Really? PBR is your favorite beer?”
I live in Milwaukee, the beer capital of the world (I know it’s not factual - but it’s true) and PBR is your preferred beer?
I don’t know what it is - most likely the nostalgia of it.
My late grandpa used to suck these down like a marathon runner in the Sahara desert knowing there wouldn’t be water for days. It was his beer.
he was always so happy. Never raised his voice or was ill willed. He was Loving and content. Had QUIPPY sayings like, “Watch your bobber”.
He adored old country jams and bonfires… really, Anything outdoors.
He had a thing for boats, and water and trees. (Before he died he wanted to see the pacific NW and all it’s lucious tall trees - he got to.) He had cool tattoos from when he was in the navy and he worked for Harley Davidson. In my eyes he was Danny Zuko.
Now, I see him through my mom - their tender hearts and warm hugs. She hugs like he did. Her smile. Her love for the little things.
He was so brave when he got diagnosed with Esophageal cancer. Like nothing was going on at all. He Didn’t want the questions or the concern. He outlived the “expiration” date that doctors predicted and gave his wife and kids a few more years. In the end it wasn’t the cancer that took him but a stroke.
But he still did have a PBR in his last days, just one every now and again when he could handle it.
I celebrated turning 32 on January 13th and had a PBR. Because, if it’s one thing he taught me - it was to enjoy a good working mans beer when you’re off the clock.
He made this beer cool for me.
xo, Grandpa! Cheers!