I had just turned 18 and I was sitting in a small town along the St. John River in Canada.  We were at a restaurant that claimed to serve “Canadian food,” however, to this day I’m still unsure what “Canadian food” is exactly … the restaurant served burgers, Italian dishes, and had a Chinese buffet. Anyways, the point of the story is that my grandfather did something for me that day that I will never forget. He bought me a beer. Not just any old beer but my first beer!

Grampy Chris Maine

I still remember ordering it, “Alpine” I said, and the waitress confirmed it in her French Canadian accent. Soon, the frosty brew was delivered to the table and I sat across from my grandfather about to cross that barrier between boy and man over a beer. It was a day, a moment, and an honor that I will never forget.

My grandfather, or “Grampy” as we called him, is not physically with us anymore but his memory lives on and every beer I drink reminds of him.

Cheers Grampy and thanks for the beer!