It was a fine day — one that needed to be capped off with a fine cigar, an H. Upmann, courtesy of Burning Leaf Cigar Shop on South High, and a few Blue Moon Wheat Ales, as I finish the last few pages of Stephen King’s It.
Blue Moon. An interesting name. The title of a great rock and roll song from my childhood (bop-a-bop-bop-a-dang-a-dang-dang-Blue Moon), and the name of a diner that Kish and the boys and I used to frequent when we visited Mom and Dad’s condo in Stuart, Florida, years ago. An odd coincidence, perhaps. But then, life often seems like a circle. Perhaps it’s not so odd that I like an adult beverage called Blue Moon, too.
It’s a memorable occasion when you enjoy your first cigar in your new place, on a bright, crisp spring day when your dogs are lolling in the grass.
It’s probably declasse to admit this, but I’m drinking a Blue Moon as I listen to Aretha Franklin’s RESPECT. UJ was here, we ate some pizza, and now I am enjoying a chilled adult beverage and, perhaps, the greatest voice in the history of American popular music.
What, exactly, is wheat beer, and why didn’t it seemingly exist 20 years ago? Why does it have a fresh, clean, almost fruity taste that is such a nice contrast to a Budweiser? And, much more importantly, how did Aretha Franklin dig so deep and find the voice that you hear in RESPECT? It is awesome.
And, as even more of a testament to the fast-moving modern culture, how did wheat beer go from being newly discovered to being the purported beer of a poser so quickly? It is one of life’s great mysteries.
I don’t care. As Saturday night percolates, I still like the taste of Blue Moon Ale.