From our readers—
Dad drove a truck for a beverage distributor in Wisconsin when I was a kid, so besides the bounty of brew in the fridge, the basement walls had a tasteful coat of beer posters and wall hangings, as well as coasters, pool cues and mugs.
—Doug Smith
Budweiser. Grandpa? Budweiser. Uncle Dave? Budweiser. Grandpa drove a Budweiser truck in Los Angeles in the 40s and 50s, Uncle Dave in the 60s. It’s in my DNA, yet rarely in my bloodstream. Though, whenever I visit the folks I’ll bring the King of Beers in order to keep in good stead. Talk around the family campfire inevitably leads to “the takeover”. Grandpa’s rolling in his grave.
—Michael Brainard
My father did not drink beer, however my grandfather did. His choice of beer was Knickerbocker, which came in the form of a stubbie. As a kid I used to find them “hidden” throughout his basement workshop.
—Jay Sheveck
My dad used to drink a beer called Reading until they went out of business and then he started drinking Schaefer. I think it all part of a scheme he had to discourage his kids from drinking.
—Craig Zearfoss
Schlitz. The beer, not the bull. Tall skinny white can with pull tab, on more than one occasion nestled between him driving and me in the front passenger seat, no seat belts.
—Kevin Collins
My dad grew up very conservative. Consuming beer, or any alcohol for that matter, was taboo. However, I took my dad into a beer market with me about a year and a half ago where I was looking for a bottle of Chimay. That day my dad realized that beer just might be okay and for his birthday recently, 30 years after he was legally allowed to have a beer, he had his first…and many more to come. Out of all the beers that I’m aware my dad has had since then, he talks most about Paulaner Oktoberfest Märzen Amber. I’m proud of him for sticking to his convictions all those years, but for also having an open mind and being willing to try something new at the ripe age of 51.
—Brandon Roth
Dad’s favorite beer was PBR—Pabst Blue Ribbon. We’re talking the late ‘60s here… if I close my eyes, I can still those brown glass longnecks and that red, white and blue label. When I was three, my dad caught me hiding behind the living room curtains drinking one of his beers!
—Cindy Brickman
Dad still drinks the cheap, yellow, canned American swill. The cheaper, the better—if it’s yellow and you can read the paper through 12 ounces of it, he’ll drink it. Dad has enjoyed drinking these beers with his fellow aviators, many of whom seem to drink nominal priced cans of pilsner regularly. He proudly keeps a photo of Steve McQueen drinking a sixer of Old Mil on the back of a pick-up on his living room wall, next to the family photos. Sadly, he has passed this terrible affliction on to me. Thanks, Dad.
—Michael Benson
Dad drank Schlitz when he ever had any at home. A truck driver friend that grew up with us drank that too, but he’d sprinkle salt along the can’s spout. I’ve never had the courage to try that.
—Jeff Hart
My dad’s favorite beer was Hamm’s. I think he liked the bear commercials. He is a Chicago Bears fan.
—Kim Anglin
I used to watch the Yankees on Saturday afternoons in my parent’s living room as a kid, and my dad would crack open a can of Budweiser, and pour me about 1/5 of a plastic cup so we could enjoy the time together, hoping for Goose Gossage (my favorite player at age six) to get the save.
—Nicholas Porochnia
In the Portland area, the “good” beer was Henry Weinhard’s, brewed right downtown. The city smelled like stale malt. I recall a beer spill flooding the streets, but I could be imagining things. I also remember Michelob being considered “exotic
—Ryan Whitehead
Funny topic. Definitely Budweiser. And in cans, never bottles. Preferably a whole case at a time.
—Shayna Daub
My dad drank what grandma called “weird beer” Sierra, Sam and Negro Modelo. Thanks, dad, for instilling in me that good beer has flavor!
—Melissa Jernigan
This is embarrassing to admit, but I grew up with my dad drinking Carling Black Label. I can still remember that if I helped with a chore, like washing the car or pulling weeds, I’d get a half a jelly glass of beer, always with that shockingly white, airy head. I always felt cheated when the glass would start out full, but the head would recede to just half the glass.
—Greg Givan
My father is and was a beer lover…he taught me about good beer. My favorite story is when I was in college and we were just discovering how fun the other could be. We went to a bar in Athens, OH called O’Hooleys where they brew their own beer. It was my first “home-brewed” pale ale…it was delicious! What he neglected to point out to me was that the alcohol content was slightly higher than what I was used to. It was such a fun night, one I will always remember.
—J Walker
Beer is part of every birthday, Father’s Day and Christmas present. My fiancé and I love putting together six-packs of new flavors for my dad to try. For Christmas this year, we got him a case of Yuengling and he couldn’t have been happier.
—Rachel Mischke
I come from a long line of working class beer drinkers. I remember my grandfather drinking Black Label, Schmidts and Piels. My father started with Reading then moved to Miller Lite. Once a week he would come home with a case and I’d have to arrange them on one of the shelves in the refrigerator. It’s amazing how perfectly they fit. He would enjoy two or three cans when he came home from work, sit on the sofa, put his feet up on the table, wait for his cat to jump in his lap for a nap, and light up a Pall Mall cigarette. He was a wonderfully simple man who was a fantastic father and husband. I miss him!
—Bill Garrison
