I remember that first taste…Dear Old Dad was working on the Chevy in the garage and asked if I would bring him a beer from the refrigerator in the kitchen. I was maybe thirteen. So I grabbed a beer out of the box, opened it for Dad, carried it into the garage and presented it to him. He took a sip, looked at me real hard, and asked, “Where’s the rest of it?”

Yes, at thirteen years old I knew two things for certain, I hated the taste of brussel sprouts and loved the taste of the Land of Sky Blue Waters…

Then at sixteen, when I got my driver’s license, Sneaky Legs Calhoun and I would drive out to the Golden Gate Bridge on a Sunday, climb along the beams and trusses below the deck floor, and dive into the safety nets they hung for the painters. This was our church on Sunday, where we could smoke cigars in the aroma of the Folgers Coffee plant and brewery of the Land of Sky Blue Waters. Yes, on those Sky Blue Water Sundays all was right with the world…

While returning from spring break to the University of Oregon three of us SAE’s stopped into the Swallows Tavern and loaded the trunk with a couple cases of Sky Blue Waters. As I was in charge of quality control and not driving, I suggested we stop at Shasta Lake for a leap off the Shasta bridge, which we did, and as each of us was composed of bones made entirely of Indian rubber, not one of us got hurt. Were we to replicate that stunt today, well, onlookers would merely cross themselves and call the coroner.

Fast forwarding, I spent my thirties on the Island of Maui, hosting the morning radio show. My barber, Barbara, had a shop in Wailuku next to a flower shop, and the ladies in that flower shop were nice enough to let me keep a six pack of Sky Blue Waters in one of their refrigerators so I could enjoy a beer while getting my hair cut…

A few years later, while portraying Mark Twain in Carson City I got together after hours with Snowshoe Thompson, One Eyed Charley Parkhurst and Julia Bulette for a couple Sky Blue Waters, and darned if long about midnight, we didn’t own the Hot Springs the capitol, and the Mint!

Finally arriving in the comfortable confines of retirement I had to laugh when my grown son asked me, “Dad, how come you drink that crappy frat beer?”

“Hey, you can knock Dad’s beer, and you can drink Dad’s beer…not both! Why don’t you bring me one when you come back this way.”

My son grabbed a Land of Sky Blue Waters out of the box and delivered it to me out on the deck. I took a long cool draught, then looked at my son and asked, “Where’s the rest of it?”