Since the day I was born, beer has been an omnipresent staple in my life.
Before I tasted wine, which would become my drink of choice and also the nail in my coffin, so to speak, before mommy wine culture was an even thing, before my relationship with alcohol would be labeled as problematic, before my recovery, if you call it that, or my discovery, if you don’t, before my sober coach training or expertise in the alcohol free space, before I became the person I am today, before I knew anything about alcohol, there was beer. Beer was my first sip. Beer was tightly woven into the tapestry of my identity. It still is. In short, I love beer.
In some ways, falling in love with beer was my destiny.
My parents were both beer drinkers and beer lovers who met in a local beer tent. I was born in a small town that was home to more bars than churches. The local taverns had more worshippers than the parishes. My hometown is located in a state whose Major League Baseball team is named after...