How could I resist? As a regular reader of Some Days It Isn't Worth Chewing Through The Leather Straps, I feel like I've gotten to know the man a bit, and what's not to like? He is charming, witty, humble, a straight shooter, compassionate, funny, smart, a family man, a veteran, a sharp writer, and an all around "good guy". (I hate to break it to you ladies, but there aren't many of them left.) With these qualifications, I felt like I was in good hands, but if he felt like Forrest Gump interviewing Flannery, I felt like Forrest Gump facing Mike Wallace and the whole 60 Minutes crew. I waited a few days for the questions and I wondered. Could I handle the glare of his spotlight?
Today the questions arrived.
1. I really like your series on folks I would buy a beer in heaven. If you only had one drinking companion (other than your wonderful wife) to spend the rest of your days with, who would it be?
You are talking about eternity here. The whole grand sum of forever. That is a mighty long time to sit around smoking cigars, swigging beer, and shooting the bull. I had better pick someone carefully if I can't spend this time with Flannery. It has to be someone intellegent and a good storyteller. After all, no one would want to spend eternity at the end of a bar with some numb-nuts who can't even tell a knock-knock joke.
- Socrates, but I think all the arguing and questioning would get old after a millinium or two.
- Bogart would be cool. He was a fantastic chess player, so that would give us something to do, and I know he would have some stories to tell, but I think he was more of a bourbon/scotch drinker than a beer drinker.
- My dad would be an excellent companion, because he was the smartest man I ever knew, and he really knew how to tell a story, but he only drank Jack Daniels and only when his back was hurting. No, I couldn't pick my dad because I know he would want to spend forever with mom and I love them both too much to keep them apart.
- Mae West wouldn't be bad. After a hundred years or so, she might relax enough to go topless, but after a while even her sexy quips might get old.
- Ben Franklin. Here is a man with a lust for living, a lust for women, and a love of good beer. He's smart, witty, and he could tell me about all the Parisian chicks he wooed while he was our Ambassador to France. He would always know what the weather was going to be like after all those years writing "Poor Richards Almanac". He would always have a good proverb, saying, witticism, anecdote, or fart joke on the tip of his tongue. He would just be good company. When Big Orange turned this blog over to me, I kind of thought of Mr. Franklin as something of a patron saint of the site as his quote appears in the heading. "Beer is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy." I have approached the job of editor with him in mind. Who would you pick?
I know this is going to sound odd, but that delicious French beer, La Pabst. There. I said it. I make no claim to good taste, good fashion sence, or a good chance to become the Queen of England. I enjoy all different kinds of beer, porters, stouts, pilsners, lagers, ales, etc al., but for my usual brand, PBR. It was a Gold Medal Winner at the 2006 Great American Beer Festival, which was held in Denver, and will be running again this year Oct. 11-13. Maybe you and GkL could stop in for a beer. As far as other favorite beverages go, I have to say I'm a milk/coffee/painfully dry martini drinker. I don't drink water. Fish make love in it. What's yours?
3. I have never believed in the notion of love at first sight. Lust, yes, but not love! How did you and Flannery meet, and was it love or lust?
Lust. Plain old Lust. Just kidding. I never bought into the whole "love at first sight" bit either, but when I saw her I knew, in my heart of hearts, that this vixon would having me craving her forever, and ever, and a day. I knew, that for the rest of my life, my universe would have a center, and she was it. As to how we met, She was a cousin of a high school buddy of mine. On July 4th, 1996 he had a party at his dad's house and I met her there. After a whilwind courtship, we were married ... (let me see, it was before Halloween, and my 26th birthday was coming up....) Oct. 25th, 1997. Never in my life has such a shining moment ever happened as when my wife decided to settle for me.
4. Since I don't know much about your family, tell us about your family, your roots and such.
We are country people. We come from Scotland and our name in Gaelic means "trees". My family plaid is blue, black, and green. We were allied with the Stewarts, who were the ruling clan of Scotland. Our clan motto is "I meant well". Our family is registered in a census taken in Virginia in 1667. Much later we traveled westward and got to Ohio, and decided that this was far enough. We settled down and ran a farm next to "Mad Anthony Wayne" in Licking County. (yes, yes, get all of your snickers out now.) The nearest town was Newark, or as the locals called it, Nerk. My father was a carpenter, so Jesus and I have some small thing in common. I hope that carries some weight at the pearly gates. My mother comes from Swiss stock. Her family name was Le Mons, like "lay-man" or church deacon, but in true American fashion, when her family got here it was changed to "Lemons". It has been a running joke in my family for some time that my dad married a lemon. I grew up in the country and spent my childhood hiking the hills, sled riding, looking for shapes in the clouds, and playing in the crick. (Not creek, but crick.) It was perfect. We got one radio station and two out of three of the network channels. I learned to whistle, spit, swear, and square dance. I never took any interest in sports as there was no one to play with except my sister, and that is no fun. We gardened, went berry picking, and made huge snowmen in the winter. It was a grand way to grow up.
5. You are stranded on a desert island (yeah, I know, real original). Which other bloggers do you want along with you and why?
Must you make me choose? O.k. You. You were in the Navy, so you must have had at least one days worth of training in "How to Survive on a Desert Island", even if it was taught by Gilligan.
Bubs. Same reason. Besides, this is like the island in "Pirates of the Carribean" where there are great amounts of rum being stored right? Well Bubs has to come as he has to make cocktails. Flannery. You did read the answer to #3 didn't you? And everyone else, because we need lots of colorful commentary on the comings and goings of our little island community. We could have wild boar roasts, fishing trips, basket weaving, strip tic-tac-toe in the sand, retellings of t.v. shows that we have seen that would be better than the shows themselves, ghost stories, arm wrestling, and an all island rock-paper-scissors championship, as well as hula lessons, and long evenings of "Songs You Know By Heart". I can't imagining the fun ever ending. I'm looking forward to seeing you all there. When can we all schedule a sinking cruise?