“Beer Before Five”

c. 2018 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(2-18)

Retirement.

Being permanently off the work schedule was an adjustment I expected later in life. A foreign experience often described by veteran folk who were ahead of me on the chronological journey. So when my employee negation arrived around 16 months ago, it hit with the force of a bowling ball scattering pins. I was unprepared for this new adventure.

It took a full year before I was able to comprehend that being out-of-service was more than simply an interlude of unemployment. My concept of self had to be changed.

Still, old coping mechanisms remained in effect. As I began to navigate these new waters, familiar habits took hold. Thus, while my own daily schedule was exploded, the dependable routine of having a regular libation of sorts throughout the day became even more compelling. As these drinking episodes ensued, I found my iPhone useful in documenting their characteristics. My need to write blended perfectly with the desire to be mellow.

With each bottle, I added more to the poetry on my tiny screen:

Beer before five

I’m barely alive

Beer after ten

I’ ll do it again

Beer in the day

Blows me away

Beer in the night

Feelin’ alright

Beer and TV

That does sound like me

Beer in the yard

A headache hits hard

Beer in the sun

Try not to get stung

Beer with the moon

Be slumbering soon

Beer in the snow

It’s on with the show

Beer by myself

Texting Michelle

Beer in my chair

I’m going nowhere

Beer till the daybreak

Makes me feel so great

Beer with Phil Hendrie

The radio stream

Beer with a book

I can’t wait to look

Beer with guitar

Better play, by far

Beer with a horn

Gonna jam until morn

Beer with a drum

All alone having fun

Beer and a chime

Much better than wine

Beer and balalaika

Garage sale perestroika

Beer and my phone

I’m ready to go home

Beer by myself

An elf on the shelf

Beer in the dark

The muse brings a spark

Beer in my belly

My legs turn to jelly

Beer in my hand

I make here my stand

Beer flowing cold

Heal now, my soul

In yonder days, I opened a brew after a long day had turned into night, at the “real job” in Geneva. But my retirement ethos knew no limit of the clock. A drink with breakfast? Miller High Life and eggs with bacon. A drink with lunch? Coors and cold cuts. A drink with dinner? Killian’s Red and a pot roast. A drink at night? Labatt Blue and streaming shows on the big tube. A drink in the wee hours? Pabst Bee Arr and a black & white show with screaming police cars.

A drink in my sleep? I’d heard stories of such things but never yet have gone so far.

This wild ride continued for a few months, until I became adjusted to the lifestyle of one unplugged from the grand social network. Suddenly, another old habit took hold. One less likely to cause mayhem with my health and family life.

Drinking coffee.

Around two or three o’clock in the morning, ideas seemed to flow freely. With a pot of grounds brewed by my Bunn home system, I took my spot at the desk. And began another journey in the quiet hours, toward self-fulfillment:

Coffee my friend

We meet here, again

Coffee my hope

Pure love you bestow

Coffee my love

A gift from above

Coffee my sweet

You fulfill my need

Coffee my savior

You bring warmth and flavor

Coffee in the cup

Now I drink you up

Beer has always been more of a stimulant for poetic rambling, I confess. A beverage well-suited to cerebral flights through imaginary dimensions of vision and prose. One likely to produce wild inspiration from the ether. Or evoke stories of bygone days, as yet untold. But my companionship with coffee seems more likely to make the nights, and creative impulses, last longer. A clear head being required for proper editing skills.

Still, the muse appears as a bottle ends. So perhaps alternating both at regular intervals might be the best strategy of all. Or at least – the most productive.

Questions or comments about ‘Words on the Loose’ may be sent to: icewritesforyou@gmail.com

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