I am one of six kids, so I had a built in labor force among my siblings. In addition, a core of about eight of my fellow collectors came forward to help. I will forever be indebted to these true friends.
A number of them mentioned that, if nothing else, it was really cool to get a first hand look at the collection as a whole. Some added the comment, “400,000 items, my ^$$!” As the two-plus month effort stretched on, it was the consensus that the new number must be at least 500,000. One collector observed that the crazy old woman with 40 cats who shows up every so often on the news has nothing on me.
The slaves who built the pyramids were said to have been paid with a beer known as kash. In no way could I pay my helpers what they were worth, so I borrowed from this tradition. As we dug into the basement of my former house, we uncovered some of my stash of vintage beers: Bigfoot, Anchor Christmas, Sam Smith’s Winter Welcome, Thomas Hardy’s Ale and even some 10-year-old Breckenridge Christmas Ale. I would divvy up these finds among those who were working that particular day.
I also rewarded them with some great beers from the portfolio I oversee at the wholesaler I work for. And when it was all done, we christened the new dwelling with an all-day beer tasting on Kentucky Derby Day. The work force warned me that if I ever even think of moving again, not one of them will answer their phones.
As much as the collection means to me, it does not compare to the wealth I have in my true friends and family. Someone who will take you to the airport or even help you dispose of a body in no way compares with those who will help you move.
The most exciting part of the new home is the fact that the yard is big enough that I can plan to build a good sized barn and make the “Beer Dave Brewseum” a reality. Until then, each weekend seems like Christmas as I begin to sort through and catalog the collection as a whole. The barn project I will save for another time.
