Jan. 23: Beer me.

One of my earliest memories is sitting on my Uncle Mel’s lap at my grandma’s dining room table, him with a can of beer in his hand, encouraging me to take a sip. I was about three years old. We were surrounded by other uncles and my older cousins, laughing at the scene, and I’m pretty sure neither my mom or dad were anywhere in the close vicinity. Yesterday I said that all of us Saltmarsh kids got an early start on beer-drinking thanks to our uncles, and my cousin Deanna said, “Well, in this family, God forbid you don’t learn to drink it!”

Yes, Saltmarshes are beer drinkers, and yet I have never really acquired a taste for it. My immediate response to the taste of beer is usually either “Yuck!” or “Ya got anything back there with an umbrella?” I just don’t really like it. While some might say this is a good thing, the not drinking of the beer, not liking the taste of it has made me feel like I’m faking it as a Saltmarsh. I haven’t been to a lot of our big family gatherings since I turned 21, but when I do go, I don’t usually drink at them because there’s no blender or bright green liqueur or piña colada mixers and, well, I kinda require those things. I likes me them girly drinks.

In honor of my Uncle Mel, who died on January 10 and whose funeral was yesterday, I drank beer this weekend without making THAT FACE. And I even learned a handy little beer-related skill—my cousin Jeff taught me how to take the cap off a beer bottle using a butter knife. Jeff is now my Jedi beer master (fitting, really, since Uncle Mel was his dad). When I told another cousin, Kenny, what I learned, he was all DUH, YOU DIDN’T KNOW THAT? See? It’s apparently a common family skill. I’m a bad Saltmarsh.

Uncle Mel would have gladly guzzled a beer or six with me, I bet. I would have drunkenly toasted him for my initiation 40 years ago, apologized for being such a late bloomer, and then, as I set up another round using my fancy new technique, sliced off my thumb with the butter knife. And, not even noticing the blood, he would have turned to me and asked, for the hundredth time, “Which one are you again?”

R.I.P., Uncle Mel. You will be missed.

Feb. 20: Sinfully high taxes

I love that Oregon doesn’t have sales tax and hated those years I was a student in Washington State and had to pay theirs. But I’ve always thought “sin taxes” were just fine because they don’t apply to me; I don’t smoke (and abhor it) and drink very little.

I haven’t done the research to know if sin taxes have a dramatic effect on purchases of said sin, but my guess is that the tax increases of a few coins every once in a while probably don’t keep many people from smoking and drinking. Of course, that doesn’t really seem to be the point (to discourage sinners into righteousness). But some Oregon lawmakers recently proposed a tax increase of 1900% on barrels of beer. The funds would go toward rehabilitation programs—a worthy cause, yes. But 1900% seems excessive, even to me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Adventists and Mormons were behind this one.

KGW story
Oregonian story
Proposed bill

Smallish breweries are concerned that this new tax could put them out of business, and pretty much all the breweries say they’ll be passing this cost increase onto the consumer. It’s not going to affect me—I’m not so much a beer-disliker as I am a beer-loather—but Portland’s kinda proud of its microbreweries and this could disable a lot of them. This just doesn’t seem like a great idea.

I don’t have a better alternative to propose; honestly, I’m just being pigheaded. But how ‘bout a saturated fat tax? YES! Tax Twinkies and donuts and corn dogs! Or maybe put those holier-than-thou tofu eaters to task. Tax Brussels sprouts! Wheat germ! Prunes! Vitamins that pass through your system whole!

Any thoughts from you beer drinkers out there?