This Father’s Day, I’ve decided to start a new tradition. One that symbolizes my father’s unique character and hoping he will join me for a toast from above. Another Father’s Day without him but your kids and your parents are forever on your mind. First, a little background…

My father’s favorite beer was Heineken. He’d laud the brew’s taste and depth, yet all you would find in the fridge in those early days was Schaefer beer. Some of you may think, “Never heard of it.” There’s a good reason (taste!) but my father held the beer in high esteem. It seemed he was the only fan even though Schaefer was once a major sponsor and on tap for New York Mets games at Shea Stadium.

When we were old enough to drink a beer, I offered a Schaefer to a friend. He approached it like a new father emptying the diaper bin. His face after the first sip said it all. He gave it back and told me the only way that might taste okay was “out of the oven.” I never tried that, but I got the drift.

My father was a proud man, and his sense of self was tied to his work ethic and providing for his family. Schaefer over Heineken was purely a financial choice, one that put family first. Proof came when he visited us in later years. I’d have a cold Schaefer (and one in the oven!) waiting for him, but he would go straight for anything in a green bottle (Molson, Heineken).

When you are in the seventh decade of life you have as much useless information in your head as the attic you never get cleaned out. At least with the attic, you can have a yard sale but go ahead and try to get rid of a jingle you heard on TV as a child. Good luck.

My father loved entertaining in his younger days and at one of these parties, an offspring jumped on the footrest and got everyone’s attention. Said offspring belted the Schaefer jingle at the tender age of five and nailed it word for word… “The most rewarding flavor in this man’s world, for people who are having fun! Schaefer is the one beer to have when you’re having more than one!”

The moment represented a high point in our collective entertainment endeavors. I always wondered why my parents stopped having parties…

Oh. The ritual. Well, the last coherent words my father said to me are emblazoned in my mind like the Schaefer jingle. In terrible pain and in and out of consciousness, just hours from passing on, he was surrounded by his family. At that moment he must’ve sensed the gathering. He looked me in the eye and said, “Hey Duke. Why don’t you run down to the store and pick up a twelve-pack.”

Well, it’s sitting in the fridge. I couldn’t get myself to buy Schaefer and thank the Lord, you really can’t find it in the South. So, a Heineken will have to do. Cheers, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.

Photo credits: Wil Stewart at unsplash.com

Scoreboard: https://www.findingnostalgia.com/kodak-pocket-camera-first-trip-shea/#iLightbox%5Bgallery_image_1%5D/2