33 years ago today, I was the first grandchild born to the Ritter side of my family. November 14th is right in the big, fat middle of deer season and so my grandfather was out in the woods when he got word that Id arrived. He went to the closest convenience store and bought a bottle of cheap Old Granddad Whisky. He and his hunting buddies each took a shot, and he put what was left in a drawer in his dresser. As I grew up, on every birthday, my Grandpa Jim Ritter would pull that bottle out from its hiding place and tell me that when I turned 21, wed each take a shot. Over the years, his health deteriorated due to his heart. He survived a major heart attack when I was 8, and by the time I was 21, he was in congestive heart failure. But he never forgot that promise, and on my birthday, I came home from college, and we took that shot together. It remains the most disgusting thing Ive ever tasted. Afterwards, he gave me the bottle with just a tiny bit left at the bottom. I took the bottle back to my apartment, and my grandfather died the next October. After the funeral, I went home and poured myself the last shot--just enough for one person. That empty bottle of Old Granddad Whisky has gone everywhere with me over these last 12 years. Its traveled all over Missouri and parts of Arkansas and remains the most important inanimate object I own. So on this birthday, just like on every birthday, I will look at that bottle and think of him. I will look at that bottle and remember.
Posted on: Fri, 14 Nov 2014 18:50:50 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015