Sunday Poetry: September, The First Day Of School, by Howard Nemerov

September, The First Day Of School
I
My child and I hold hands on the way to school,
And when I leave him at the first-grade door
He cries a little but is brave; he does
Let go. My selfish tears remind me how
I cried before that door a life ago.
I may have had a hard time letting go.

Each fall the children must endure together
What every child also endures alone:
Learning the alphabet, the integers,
Three dozen bits and pieces of a stuff
So arbitrary, so peremptory,
That worlds invisible and visible

Bow down before it, as in Joseph's dream
The sheaves bowed down and then the stars bowed down
Before the dreaming of a little boy.
That dream got him such hatred of his brothers
As cost the greater part of life to mend,
And yet great kindness came of it in the end.

II
A school is where they grind the grain of thought,
And grind the children who must mind the thought.
It may be those two grindings are but one,
As from the alphabet come Shakespeare's Plays,
As from the integers comes Euler's Law,
As from the whole, inseparably, the lives,

The shrunken lives that have not been set free
By law or by poetic phantasy.
But may they be. My child has disappeared
Behind the schoolroom door. And should I live
To see his coming forth, a life away,
I know my hope, but do not know its form

Nor hope to know it. May the fathers he finds
Among his teachers have a care of him
More than his father could. How that will look
I do not know, I do not need to know.
Even our tears belong to ritual.
But may great kindness come of it in the end.

- by Howard Nemerov
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This is one of those frustrating poems to write about, where I cannot force myself to focus on the meter or the poetic technique, because I'm closest to the subject. Forgive me for a moment, then, while I focus on the thought instead of the poem.

Nemerov captures so much of what my parenting experience has been in this poem. You are given this little bundle to take care of - immobile to the point you can lay it on a pad on the table while you drink a cup of coffee and read the paper, dependent to the point that it would starve if you didn't feed it, and ignorant to the point that the pet dog has a vastly superior vocabulary.

Then everything changes.

I'm particularly wowed by the final two lines. "Even our tears belong to ritual." It is a ritual, isn't it, that we wind up taking our children to schools - society demands that we act out this strange act, leaving our children to others to teach? (Homeschoolers aside.) We do this to our children, as our parents did it to us, and it is a truly horrid ripping, no matter how we prepare ourselves and how convinced we are that we have the best school and the most excited child. It is a societal ritual, where all parents symbolically surrender their children to society, and all children accept that they will need to face the challenges of institutions without the protective gaze of their parents. All lives are changed on the threshold of schools.

And the final line is not a prediction; it is a plaintive prayer. "But may great kindness come of it in the end." Nemerov was a teacher - a professor at Washington University, a few miles from my childhood home. He knew education and academia, and he does not offer an unconvincing declaration like "This is for the best", or "Education will expand their worlds", or even "They'll increase their earning power if they make the right choices". He doesn't even attempt prosaic persuasion - instead, he joins those of us who have abandoned our children to society in a prayer that some greater kindness, some happier outcome, will follow from the tears of division on the schoolhouse steps.

Doppelbock Tasting at Gomer's

If you haven't signed up for Gomer's email lists, you really should. Last night, Gomer's hosted a free tasting of 7 doppelbocks, served with cheese and wonderful herb-encrusted salami, and presented with a brief but informative lecture about the history, composition and stylistic expectations of the style.

I've written about doppelbocks several times before (1, 2, 3, 4). Doppelbocks were invented by monks who wanted to pack as much nutrition and richness as possible into a liquid form, for those long days of Lent when they were required to fast by eschewing food. A loaf of bread in a bottle, doppelbocks are big, rich, warming beers, perfect for sipping on one of these February nights when it feels like winter will never loosen its grip.

The beers presented were Spaten Optimator (noticeable alcoholic warming, chocolate nuance, surprisingly dry), Ayinger Celebrator (some higher alcohols, classic of the style), Tucher Bajuvator (spicy background hops and some fruity esters), Weihenstephaner Korbinian (earthy, rich, smoky - named after St. Corbinian, the Irish monk who founded the monastery which became the brewery), Bell's Consecrator (classical, with a nice clean finish), Tommyknocker Butthead (too sweet and estery), and Sam Adams Double Bock (classical, with rich dark fruit notes).

Alert and informed fans of doppelbock will notice a glaring omission from the above list. Alas, Paulaner Salvator, the original of the style - the beer that the Pope approved for Lenten drinking because it had spoiled on the journey to Rome and seemed properly penitential - was unavailable from the distributor.

Each of the samples was pre-poured in ~1 ounce samples in small wine glasses. While it would have been slightly better to have the beers freshly poured, so that more of the volatile aromas would have been present at tasting time, the size of the crowd (~40) would have made that a challenge without a bevy of staff.

Gomer's South deserves a lot of credit for the effort they have been putting in to hosting regular beer events. Next week, there will be a free tasting of the amazing beers from Founder's Brewery, and last week O'Fallon was featured.

Sheriff Evicts Insiders - The First Victory in the Cleansing of Jackson County Legislature

First, big kudos to Sheriff Mike Sharp, who has taken a stand against the literal insiders who have used courthouse access to unfairly gain early access to getting their name first on the ballots. In prior years, incumbents would use their courthouse passes to get in and file for themselves and friends while the hopes for reform sat outside in the cold.

Finally, Mike Sharp has put an end to that odious and unfair practice. Using his role as chief of security for the courthouse, he decided to take names at the courthouse door starting at 5:00 yesterday.

I had written about the unfairness of the prior system before, when Theresa Garza Ruiz proposed a simple and fair fix to the insider game. Greg Grounds joined her in seeking to eliminate cronyism.

Heny Rizzo voted for special insider privileges.

Dan Tarwater voted for special insider privileges.

James Tindall voted for special insider privileges.

Scott Burnett voted for special insider privileges.

Dennis Waits voted for special insider privileges.

Fred Arbanas voted for special insider privileges.

Bob Spence voted for special insider privileges.

Not surprisingly, even under the new system, Henry Rizzo managed to find a way to use his position to engage in petty cheating. He loathes Theresa Garza Ruiz because she has consistently sought to bring openness and reform to the Jackson County legislature. With that in mind, he let Ruiz's opponent cut in line to get his name on the ballot before her.

Can you believe that? Most people grow out of that kind of behavior in 1st grade, but Henry Rizzo and his friend apparently did not.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog - Stevens Point Burly Brown

Brown ales are an under-appreciated class of beers. They don't get attention because they don't push the extremes. They aren't as hoppy as India Pale Ales, they aren't as dark as porters or stouts, and they aren't as malty as the higher scotch ales. When well-crafted, though, they find that sweet spot, that balance, that makes them truly special.

Stevens Point Burly Brown is, unfortunately, not one of the greats. Pouring a dark copper, the brilliantly clear beer comes in at the light end of the color guidelines for a proper American Brown. The aroma, though, is superb - malty with just a tingle of hops, and a bit of chocolate.

The flavor is surprisingly soft, though. The scent's promise of a rich, malty beer is not fully delivered by the beer itself. Instead, you get a light-bodied, rather bland caramel taste, without the roasty or chocolate notes that add some backbone to a well-made brown ale.

The hops of a typical American brown ale were absent along with the darker malts. While a brown ale should never by dominated by hops, a great one will demonstrate the brewer's ability to use hop bitterness to balance the malt, and hop flavor to add piquant zestiness to the malt. Point's Burly Brown just doesn't go there - a restrained hand with the hops manages to avoid cloying sweetness, but fails to deliver any excitement.

It's not a bad beer at all. I might like it more if it were labeled as an amber ale - it's really a lighter beer in color, taste and body than I expect from a well-made brown. There are certainly better brown ales out there; try Abita Turbo Dog or Moose Drool.

The Star Gives Republican Ryan Silvey A Free Pass to Lie

Jason Noble of the Kansas City Star proved today that he is a stenographer, not a journalist.

Back in the day, journalists had a higher duty than simply copying down whatever lies a favored politician offered up. Instead, they would ask follow-up questions to expose the lie, or even put a sentence in their article explaining that what the politician said was false.

But, at the Kansas City Star, if the lie you are spouting is an attack on our Mayor, you face no such hostility or defense of the truth.

Today, Republican Ryan Silvey pulled a shallow publicity stunt, threatening to harm Kansas City because he wants our city to take tax dollars from basic services and donate it to the County for the stadiums. So far, so good - I understand that Ryan Silvey is part of a minority of people who think that we should not fully fund our police department but we should fully fund stadiums for suburbanites. We disagree, but he's entitled to his own positions.

Ryan Silvey is not entitled to make up his own facts, though. In defending his publicity stunt, Silvey claimed, "Pulling the money breaches the city's contract with the Chiefs and Royals . . .".

Folks, that's a lie. A big, fat whopper of a lie that no serious observer of the stadium drama could fail to recognize. There is no contract between the city and the teams.

Did Jason Noble challenge the falsehood? Did Jason Noble point out in his article that there is no contract between the city and the teams? Did Jason Noble ask a follow-up question to clarify the point?

No.

(Update: A commenter below points out that the Kansas City Business Journal has the journalistic integrity and tenacity to look at the contracts and acknowledge that there is no legal agreement binding the city to any payment.)

Why Should Domestic = Cheap? A Call for Legislation

What is a "domestic" beer?

According to most restaurants and bars, a domestic beer is an American style light lager produced at a factory miles away by a foreign corporation.

On the flip side, a beer brewed within walking distance at a brewery built by people who live in our community - that's not domestic.

It's all about money, of course, with a dash of history tossed in.

First, the history. When I was a teenager and disco was alive, the beer world could be divided into two types - cheap, bland, flavor-stripped lagers brewed here in the United States, and expensive, strange beers brewed in foreign countries, ranging from Moosehead to Guinness. Back then, good beers pretty much all came from other countries, and America pretty much only produced Bud, Miller, Schlitz, Coors, Pabst and a few others of the same ilk. (It's true that there were a few good beers made in America at the time, like Anchor Steam and a few other rarities, but they were very few, and not common enough to add any exoticism to the word "domestic".)

So, if you wanted a domestic beer, you wanted something cheap and cold. If you wanted something else, you wanted an expensive import (which weren't always better, by the way, but that's another story). This is the era that gave rise to the splendor that was "Import Night" at various bars. Now, times have changed.

Let's talk about the money now. American craft brewers are making most of the best beers in the world. Because of the scale and ingredients, these beers are more expensive than the factory beers, and the prices are all over the board. A bottle of beer from the Midwest can easily cost more than a bottle of beer from Munich or Newcastle.

So, now, when a bar or restaurant wants to tell you that they'll sell you a cheap beer really, really cheap, they'll post a sign that says "Domestic draws, $1" or "$4 Pitchers, All domestics". "Domestic" is shorthand for Bud, Miller or Coors, even though they're brewed by foreign corporations. If you want to get a Boulevard Pale Ale, or a Goose Island Honker's Ale, or a Magic Hat #9, you're going to pay a lot more than the "domestic" price.

At first blush, this doesn't seem to be a big problem. I'm happy to pay the going rate for good beer, and I don't expect a bar to sell expensive beer to me at a loss. And I certainly don't begrudge anyone a plastic cup of "domestic" if that's what they want.

But I don't want it called "domestic" any more. It's inaccurate, it's insulting to real American brewers, and it siphons money to foreign corporations. SABMiller and AB-InBev are NOT domestic corporations. There are thousands of true "domestics" crafting great beer, and the American beer scene deserves to be recognized as a point of national pride. When you claim that Miller Lite and Budweiser are the "domestics", you are saying that Boulevard and Schlafly are somehow less American. It's just not right.

Here's what I suggest: Pass a state law that any retailer advertising special pricing for "domestic" beers be required to sell any and all American-produced beers that it carries at the advertised price. My intent is not to harm bars and restaurants; I only want them to start using truth in advertising. If they want to advertise "$1 Bud draws" or "$4 Miller pitchers", that's fine.

But they ought to catch up with the times. "Domestic" beers are no longer limited to corporate factory brewers. America is now a great brewing nation, and our retailers should not advertise that Budweiser is the pinnacle of American brewing.

(Hat tip to John over at the KC Beer Blog for sparking this rant with a comment to this post.)

Reinheitsgebot - Purity at the Expense of Innovation

If you hang around beer geeks enough, you may hear the term "Reinheitsgebot", pronounced rine-HITES-geh-boat. Some will speak of it with reverence, as the first attempt to define and insist upon beer quality, while others will speak of it with eye-rolling contempt, as the enemy of innovation. Both are partially correct.

The Reinheitsgebot was decreed by Duke Wilhelm IV in Bavaria in 1516. While the complete translation shows that the Reinheitsgebot was focused more on taxes than on beer, the portion most cited by brewers stated, "Furthermore, we wish to emphasize that in future in all cities, markets and in the country, the only ingredients used for the brewing of beer must be Barley, Hops and Water." No wheat, no cherries, no rice, no pumpkin, not even any yeast. Yeast which is the agent responsible for changing malty-sweet water into beer was not even identified until the Louis Pasteur fired up his microscope in the 1800s. In 1516, brewers typically used some of the prior batch as a "starter", much like sourdough bakers continue to do.

Despite the Germanic reputation for strict compliance with rules, the Reinheitsgebot was always more of a guideline than a rule. Bavaria has long been the home of astounding wheat beers, for example, and Duke Wilhelm IV was not going to deny himself and his friends a frothy mug of hefeweizen brewed with wheat. Instead, in a classic case of "It's Okay If You're A Ruler", wheat beers were restricted to brewers who catered to the nobility. Reinheitgebot applied only to the rabble, and was intended to make sure enough wheat was available for bakers to stay in business.

Along the way, the famed Reinheitsgebot has been amended to allow for the broader use of wheat, as well as sugar and yeast. Further, Germany's entrance into the EEU made the restrictions inapplicable to imports, and now German brewers are allowed to brew as they please, though many continue to claim compliance with the Reinheitsgebot's provisions as a marketing gimmick. (None that I know of comply with the original 1516 provisions capping beer prices, though, which would lower beer prices to under a dime for a case of beer. Let me know if you find any exceptions.)

Now, back to the debate about the impact of the Reinheitgebot. Did it raise the quality of German beers, or did it squelch innovation? The short answer is "yes". Back in the 1500s, beer was made of a wide variety of crazy materials, and those ingredients were often added with an eye toward producing a cheaper beer rather than a better beer. Local weeds could substitute for hops, rotten apples could substitute for malt, and so forth. Insisting on barley and hops really did cull out the more nasty experiments being sold as "beer", and may have protected the consumer.

The impact on innovation was substantial, though. On the one hand, the Reinheitsgebot encouraged the Germans to fully explore the permutations of all-barley beers. From doppelbock to helles, Germans have produced an impressive range of wonderful barley beers.

On the other hand, the imagination reels at what might have been developed through the years had German brewers had free reign to innovate. Just to the north, Belgium became laboratory of creative brewing, an inspiration to brewers to this day. Even in France, styles incorporating unmalted wheat and spices helped bring refreshment to the world.

Was Duke Wilhelm IV a patron saint of pure beer, or a sinner killing the development of German beers? Again, the correct answer is to avoid the "either or" linguistic trap, and appreciate the good that came from his law.

Sunday Poetry: Dover Beach, by Matthew Arnold

Dover Beach

The sea is calm to-night.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand;
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the A gaean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.


Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

- by Matthew Arnold
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If you're looking for a great love poem to read to your Valentine today, go check out my sweet old etcetera, by ee cummings, or Tin Wedding Whistle, by Ogden Nash (a personal favorite), or Older Love, by Jim Harrison. This one probably won't get you where you want to be.

Matthew Arnold may have been the most morose lover of all time. Scholars believe that he wrote this poem on his honeymoon - one pictures him wandering in after a walk on the beach, his new wife swept up in the romantic seaside, and he starts moaning about his loss of faith, his sadness and human misery. I bet he slept on the couch that night.

But, to give Mr. Arnold a more sympathetic ear, Dover Beach truly is a wonderful love poem. It's not all hearts and flowers in the real world, and the poet shares the feeling that the world lies "before us like a land of dreams,/So various, so beautiful, so new", but he knows that the world is really not as joyful as those in the throes of love may feel. He's not blinded by his love, though he obviously feels those impulses.

"Ah, love, let us be true/to one another . . ." What a brilliant line break! Let us be true - Matthew Arnold cuts through the illusions and wants to share what he feels in complete honesty. He could have written a "roses are red" verse, but he insists on being true to his lover. He knows it's a harsh world, and they will face pain and strife in their future, but he wants to go through it with his lover.

That's pretty sweet, if you think about it.

Let's Talk Politics This Time

Last year about this time, we discussed whether the City Council should make a $2,000,000 donation to the County, in the form of stadium subsidies. I opposed the decision, the Mayor opposed the decision, but the City Council voted 12-1 to give money away.

Since then, the Chiefs and Royals have had horrific seasons with terrible attendance, the City has not had sufficient money to clear streets, our murder rate remains high, a rapist roams Waldo, city employees have been laid off, remaining city workers have had their wages frozen, and we've installed Cathy Jolly's odious red light cameras to generate revenues. All this, and nobody has had the cleverness to point out that the City Councilmembers who voted for the donation should be held accountable for their shocking priorities.

And now the issue is back again.

(As an aside, why don't some of the crack reporters for the Star do an article about the FREE Royals and Chiefs tickets handed out to County and City politicians? Who's sitting in those seats? Are they even being used? I'd be willing to bet there's a story there - either the politicians are handing them out to donors, or they're wasting the tickets. And, as another aside, why doesn't the Star do a story on why, exactly, we even have a Jackson County Sports Authority? How much bureaucracy do we need to pay for simply to keep track of two tenants??)

This year, I'm not even going to bother arguing about the wisdom of stealing $2,000,000 from the city's coffers. My opinion remains clear, but let's look at a much smaller issue.

How do the politics of this debate work this year? Will Funkhouser's suggestion that we end the exemption do him political harm or political good? Will it harm him by showing him (again) as out of step with the Council and willing to risk our sports franchises? Or will it help him by showing him (again) as out of step with the Council and being the only one who prefers to spend $2,000,000 on things like police protection, snow removal, and city workers rather than weak athletes?

I'm curious about what people think. A good friend emailed me when the news came out and said that this closes off Funkhouser's path to reelection - "Voters won’t tolerate our Mayor screwing Chiefs and Royals, regardless of the budget shortfalls." He may be right, or he may be wrong, and the decision could be a step on the path toward reelection. (I know a lot of you disagree with a lot of Funkhouser's decisions, and believe that reelection is utterly impossible. That's fine - but, if you can, try to analyze the politics of this one decision. I'd love to know what you think.)

(Update: A commenter claimed that city officials get tickets, but county officials don't. The commenter is mistaken. Under the lease agreements, County officials get a suite and prime parking. See page 16, section 7.4. It's offensive to think that the City Council would steal money from city priorities so that county officials can watch games from a suite.)

It's Not Hypocrisy, It's Anti-Americanism - Republicans on Stimulus

I try to keep things interesting here, but I confess that the video below is tedious. About 6 minutes into the 10 minute presentation, even the most avid consumer of political trivia will begin to lose interest.

The topic of this tedium is Republicans scoring political points attacking the stimulus package as useless, and then scoring political points spending the stimulus dollars while praising their usefulness. There's even an amusing clip of Louisiana Republican darling Bobby Jindal actually signing a gigantic check, as if he is the actual source of funds.

There are so many examples of this hypocrisy that it's boring.

Republicans are caught on tape attacking a policy that they also claim is good and helpful. The reason for this two-facedness is because they feel compelled to attack the President we elected, which is simply a part of their Party of No strategy.

The Republicans have allowed their unprincipled opposition to lead them into true Anti-Americanism. When you can see with your own eyes the good that a policy is bringing to your own constituents - when you cannot help but share your joy at the opportunities and growth that a policy is creating - and then you attack that policy for cheap political points, you must know in your heart of hearts that your zeal for the political blood has led you to attack America itself.

I had plenty of disagreements with the prior administration, and I have some significant disagreements with President Obama, too. But I praised Bush when he did the right things, and I would never dream of opposing a policy that I knew was good for America simply because it comes from the Republican side of the aisle.

It's okay to be a partisan for your own party, but when it leads you to oppose what you know is good for America, you are actively working against our country. Senator Bond and the dozens of Republicans featured in the following video should be ashamed of themselves, and owe us all apology.

Guinness Master Brewer Coming to Kansas City - Browne's Market Hosting

Guinness stout is one of the classic beers of the world. Browne's Market is one of the classic stores in the city. On March 14, these two classics will be combined, as Fergal Murray, the master brewer of the most esteemed Irish beer will be visiting the most esteemed Irish market in Midwest.

More details will follow in the coming month, but mark your calendar for an Irish beer experience you'll never forget.

O'Fallon Brewery Tasting at Gomer's South

Tony Caradonna of O'Fallon Brewery brought his beers to Gomer's South yesterday evening, and I met two of my beer-loving friends there to sample the line-up. (If you're from St. Louis, you'll want to know that Tony granduated from St. Mary's High School in 1975. If you're not from St. Louis, you don't understand the fascination with high school provenance, but it means a lot to those of us who are. If you think that's just a personal quirk of mine, note that it appears in the second line of his bio. If you look at his staff profiles, everyone who grew up in St. Louis mentions his or her high school at the top, while none of those from out of town mentions the name of his or her high school. What can I say? It's a regional thang.)

As beer-tastings go, this was a casual affair, standing around a counter sipping samples from tiny mouthwash cups. We sampled 6 beers, and they were placed in a thoughtful order. No formal presentation, but the brewer was there to answer questions.

First came O'Fallon Gold. Obviously intended to be a crowd-pleaser, it is lightly hopped, smooth and, frankly, kind of bland. It's not a bad beer at all - I didn't find any flaws with it, and it might be kind of interesting to taste it alongside other brewers' "entry level" beers. An ounce or so of this was plenty to get the idea, though, and then it was upward toward the more interesting offerings.

Next up was O'Fallon Wheat, and it was a clean, basic American wheat beer. Obviously intended to be a crowd-pleaser, it is lightly hopped, smooth and, frankly, kind of bland. It's not a bad beer at all - I didn't find any flaws with it, and it might be kind of interesting to taste it alongside other brewers' "entry level" beers. An ounce or so of this was plenty to get the idea, though, and then it was upward toward the more interesting offerings. Yes, I know I just repeated myself, but the shoe fits. In this case, it might be interesting to try it in comparison to Boulevard Wheat.

On second thought, American wheat is one of my least favorite styles, so why attempt to differentiate between two very competently made, commercially successful beers made by great Missouri brewers? I am thankful that each of them brings in revenue to subsidize the more experimental beers that thrill beer geeks like me. So what if I don't like American wheat beers? Lots of people do, and Missouri produces two excellent, well-brewed versions.

The third beer of the evening was O'Fallon 5-Day IPA. This is the one I bought to take home - well-balanced with hops and malt, it is a great example of an excellent beer that isn't trying to set any records. Too many brewers use their IPAs as entries in a hops arms race, competing to melt your face with overwhelming hop bitterness, flavor and aroma. 5-Day IPA brings a little detente to the IPA world, with a tasty but balanced approach that leads you to say, "I think I'll have another," instead of simply, "Whoa, what just hit me?". This is a really good beer, and it could easily become one of my regulars.

O’Fallon Smoked Porter came next, and it came as a jolt. I'd reviewed this beer 3 years ago in my "99 Bottles of Beer on the Blog" series, and I think I enjoyed that bottle more. The smoke in the beer last night was overwhelming - it tasted like liquid barbecue. Perhaps the bottle I reviewed earlier had aged a bit - aging tends to smooth out strong flavors, and my prior review mentions a slightly tart and acidic aftertaste, which could be a sign of age, and which would have been overwhelmed by the smoke in last night's sample. Even though the beer didn't rank among my favorites last night, it's great to see brewers trying new things and expanding the catalog of beer tastes we can find in our stores.

The fifth beer was O'Fallon Whiskey Barrel Smoked Porter. I wish I had bought a bottle of this to try by itself. As it was, coming right on the heels of the super-smokey Smoked Porter, I was unable to give it a proper tasting. There was definitely smoke there, but I couldn't tell how much of it was due to overlap from the prior beer, and how much was in the sample I was tasting. I picked up on vanilla and maybe even a little honey flavor, but that's about all I'm going to say about this beer until I get a chance to really experience it. I will say, though, that it seemed to have a lot of complexity and that it's a beer I look forward to trying again.

Finally, we closed out on one of O'Fallon's seasonal offerings, O’Fallon Cherry Chocolate Beer. This tasted amazingly similar to those chocolate covered cherries my mother used to get when I was a kid; I wonder if Tony's mom shopped at the same store. I'd never want to plow through a six pack of this beer, but it's a pleasant surprise and, once again, O'Fallon is pushing the limits of what you might expect a bottle of beer to hold. It was also interesting to me that the base beer on this confection is actually a dark wheat, instead of the more typical porter or stout. I would love to see how he makes this beer!

O'Fallon Brewery has a 15 barrel system, which they are using to produce 3,000+ barrels a year. They've been quietly building their reputation and they're the second largest American brewery in the St. Louis area (now that AB has been sold to foreign interests). They recently got their license to produce stronger beers, so look for them to start experimenting even more in the coming years.

(If you're interested in hearing more about tasting opportunities at Gomer's, sign up for their newsletters here.)

Decorating with Books

Books have lost their prominent position in my life.

Books continue to fill shelves throughout my house, they crowd my nightstand, and a trip to the bookstore is an expensive outing, but the ones on the shelves are decorations, the ones on my nightstand are a 2 minute distraction before sleep, and my purchases are mere good intentions. I don't read books anymore.

Of course, that is a bit of an exaggeration. I read the informative parts of cookbooks, and a new book on brewing will be devoured in days. I browse poetry books to give me something to write about on Sundays. But I cannot recall the last time I picked up a meaty work of fiction and read myself into a new world.

Last week, a younger friend told me she had finished reading "A Soldier of the Great War", possibly my favorite novel. She loved it. I was flattered she had invested the time to read such a lengthy book on my recommendation, but, internally, it struck me that I had read the book more than a decade ago, and, if she were to ask me for a recommendation from the vast store of great books written in the past 5 years, I would be a dry well. I was a little jealous of the reading experience she had just been through. I don't really read books anymore.

I read lots of other things, and a lot of it has real quality. Much of the blog world amounts to an elaborate melding of created personae, real world events and selected fiction. Real creativity can be found on the pages of Frighteningly Uncommon Sense, Observant Bystander, and most of the other blogs on the left side of this page. There's a lot more going on than meets the eye.

But it's not a substitute for really sinking into a great novel. I want to spend the time inside a character's skin, and experience life in a way I haven't yet imagined. I want to ride on a raft down the Mississippi; I want to be honestly human in World War II; I want to pursue Fermina until she deems me worthy.

Over the next several months, I may miss a few more blog posts, and I might fall behind on Facebook updates. I hope to be a bit more absent. I've got plenty of decorations to choose from in this house.

Hyde Park - Making Kansas City Just a Little More Dangerous?

Just north of 38th Street, between the north and southbound lanes of Gillham Road, is one of Kansas City's prettiest little parks. It consists of a small valley or a large ravine, with stairs leading down into it from the north end, while the south end is open and inviting. There are few improvements - a couple picnic tables, a swingset, some tennis courts, and street lights.

I've walked down there, and it's a quiet, open, slightly cooler place to escape road noise and surround yourself with pretty stone formations. You can imagine what it was like when it was a golf course, and cows would graze on the greens.

Unfortunately, the clock is ticking on this little gem. Over the years, it will be transforming into a heavily wooded sinkhole choked with leaves and littered with crime. In recent months, some insane arborist has planted dozens of trees throughout the park, transforming its future into a dark forest where crime can flourish and its bucolic past will be obliterated.

Right now, the impact is minimal, but the 30+ trees are sprinkled throughout the small park, spaced as if intended to block sight-lines and create a claustrophobic forest from a secluded open space. They are merely saplings now, but, if allowed to grow, they will change forever the look and feel of what our ancestors saw on the wagon trail between Independence and Westport, perhaps on their way to Santa Fe.

I'm sure that whoever decided that this small patch of historical ground could somehow be improved by jamming as many trees as possible into its open spaces was well-intentioned. Trees are beautiful and they help the environment.

But when trees become a dense, dark forest and crowd out an historic, beautiful space, they lose some of their beauty. If you want to enjoy Hyde Park, you'd better do so in the next couple years.

Sunday Poetry: At The Smithville Methodist Church, by Stephen Dunn

At The Smithville Methodist Church

It was supposed to be Arts & Crafts for a week,
but when she came home
with the "Jesus Saves" button, we knew what art
was up, what ancient craft.

She liked her little friends. She liked the songs
they sang when they weren't
twisting and folding paper into dolls.
What could be so bad?

Jesus had been a good man, and putting faith
in good men was what
we had to do to stay this side of cynicism,
that other sadness.

OK, we said, One week. But when she came home
singing "Jesus loves me,
the Bible tells me so," it was time to talk.
Could we say Jesus

doesn't love you? Could I tell her the Bible
is a great book certain people use
to make you feel bad? We sent her back
without a word.

It had been so long since we believed, so long
since we needed Jesus
as our nemesis and friend, that we thought he was
sufficiently dead,

that our children would think of him like Lincoln
or Thomas Jefferson.
Soon it became clear to us: you can't teach disbelief
to a child,

only wonderful stories, and we hadn't a story
nearly as good.
On parents' night there were the Arts & Crafts
all spread out

like appetizers. Then we took our seats
in the church
and the children sang a song about the Ark,
and Hallelujah

and one in which they had to jump up and down
for Jesus.
I can't remember ever feeling so uncertain
about what's comic, what's serious.

Evolution is magical but devoid of heroes.
You can't say to your child
"Evolution loves you." The story stinks
of extinction and nothing

exciting happens for centuries. I didn't have
a wonderful story for my child
and she was beaming. All the way home in the car
she sang the songs,

occasionally standing up for Jesus.
There was nothing to do
but drive, ride it out, sing along
in silence.

- by Stephen Dunn
____________________________________________

I had never noticed Stephen Dunn until a librarian friend recommended his work. I've now read a selection of his work, and he manages to make poetry out of ordinary life, without resorting to folksy wisdom or tying things up in a package.

I try, when I write about contemporary poets, to encourage you to purchase their books from independent booksellers, and you should certainly consider doing so if you want to swim a little deeper in Dunn's works than you will find online. This time, though, in recognition of how I learned about this poet, I've ordered the books online through the library, and I will pick them up at my local branch in a few days, to enjoy for free.

What Beer for Super Bowl?

The big game is Sunday, and our house will be cheering for the Saints. We'll have Etouffee and snacks - probably even break out some home-made chili (no ground meet - hand cut-up chunks of chuck roast). And pretzels, of course.

Beer selection for the Super Bowl is tricky, though.

Of course, it would be easy and obvious to break out the Abita, which is made in Abita Springs, a few miles from New Orleans. You can easily find Abita Amber and Abita Purple Haze at most stores with a reasonable selection. Both are drinkable and approachable, but the Amber is nothing exciting, and the Purple Haze is a fruit beer of the "put enough raspberry in it and you won't know it's beer" style. Abita makes some great beers, but these two aren't really among them. On the other hand, if you find some Turbodog, pick it up for a great example of an American Brown Ale.

If you're an Indianapolis fan, you might have a tougher time finding something from the vicinity in a local store, though, if you do, you'll probably be drinking a great beer. Indiana has a surprisingly vibrant beer scene, including the wonderful Three Floyds brewery. If you can find something from Three Floyds, pick it up, even if you're cheering for the Saints.

But, really, drinking beer from your team's location is a nod toward silly superstition. What happens on the field in Miami is not really dependent upon what you do in your home 1000+ miles away. I've learned, through years of experience and experimentation, that nothing I can do really impacts the game - not swearing at the TV, not wearing proper licensed clothing, not even promising God I will be a better person if my chosen team wins. So, let's abandon the "Beer with a Purpose" approach, and look toward exactly what beer will enhance the Super Bowl experience.

The first thing to consider is timing. This will be a long evening, and my advice is to plan a sequence of beers rather than latching onto one beer and expecting it to take you through the entire game. I'm going to go with a 4 Quarter approach.

First Quarter: Start with a nod toward history. Boulevard Pilsner is a great American Lager, and it's also light enough to serve as a warm-up course. It will remind you a bit of the beers your Dad drank while watching the game, but it is well-crafted, so you won't relive the horrors of Hamm's or Wisconsin Gold Label. It's American football, and nothing is more American than a great American Lager.

Second Quarter: It's time to kick it up a notch. Choose your favorite American Pale Ale, like Boulevard Pale Ale or Mirror Pond. The hops and malt will compete like the two teams, and even if the hops seem to be prevailing in an American Pale Ale, the malt is hanging in there, and it's a sport where everyone wins.

Half Time: Split a bottle of La Folie from New Belgium, a wood-aged, sour brown ale, or some other sour beer. It's wildly different, refreshing, and a great change of pace to enjoy while the Who take the field. You don't want a whole bottle, because this is not the time to focus on the intricacies of sour and malt, so share a bottle with some friends.

Third Quarter: It's time for a brown ale or a porter. If you can find Turbodog by Abita, now is the time to pop it open (it may be superstitious, but where's the harm?). You want something big and flavorful to keep your taste buds excited. St. Bridget's Porter from Great Divide is another great choice here. The game is serious now, and you need some serious beer.

Fourth Quarter: This is a tough choice. If the game's close, you want something sharp and exciting, but if it's a blowout, you'll want something mellow to sooth the pain of the Colts fans and to celebrate the success of the Saints. So, I'm saying if the point spread is 13 points or less, you want intensity, so go with an imperial (or double) IPA. Double Wide from Boulevard is a good choice, but pick your favorite hop bomb to keep yourself cheering loudly for your team.

If the teams are separated by 14 points or more, though, go with a great Belgian Dubbel or Abbey ale. The best beer bargain in the world is Ommegang Abbey ale, and it is rich enough to serve as a fitting indulgence for the victorious fans and to offer a sweet reminder of the joy of life to those suffering through a thrashing. It's a wonderful beer for special occasions, and the Super Bowl is certainly a special occasion.

Postgame: A nice big glass of water, and maybe a couple aspirin. Tomorrow's a work day, and you've been drinking beer all evening.

I Was Right About Koster After All - Darn It

I've been intending to do a "mea culpa" posting about my views on Chris Koster. In the primaries, I opposed him vehemently, and questioned his commitment to his new-found Democratic principles. Since then, I've wondered if I was, perhaps, mistaken about his sincerity.

It turns out I my fears were justified.

While others have rightfully complained about his "benign neglect" approach toward Sunshine Laws, I've been hopeful that Chris Koster is doing a good, if imperfect, job.

Unfortunately, Monday morning's paper shows that Koster is an anti-environmental leopard that has no interest in changing his spots. He is using his Attorney General position to actively work toward polluting Missouri's history, coincidentally in alignment with the financial interests of his campaign funders.

Back during the campaign, I wrote about CAFOs and Koster's support of them. CAFOs are Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations, more commonly known as factory farms. Koster has chosen to side with the corporate interests rather than the environment, and I wrote about this ugly failure at least twice; it was and remains an important issue of local people not wanting to be subjected to stomach turning stench in the name of corporate profits.

Now Chris Koster is using his office to try to put a factory farm within stench distance of the Arrow Rock State Park.

For a while there, I thought Koster was truly a Democrat, and that my opposition to his candidacy was mistaken. Unfortunately, Koster is choosing corporate interests over local concerns, and profits over the environment. I was right, darn it.

His actions hurt worse because they are the actions of a Democratic office holder.

Beer World - Good News and Bad News from Waldo Pizza

Waldo Pizza makes one of the best pies in the city, and I would go there if their best beer was Diet Coke. What makes the place incredible, though, is their beer selection. From the beginning, they have always had an intelligent and varied beer list, light-years ahead of most restaurants.

First, the good news - they are now offering beer flights. For the ridiculously low price of $5, you can get 4 pours of 5 ounces each from their taps. When you consider that their taps include treasures like the fabled Bell's Hopslam, Schlafly's Barrel Aged Imperial Stout, Goose Island's Bourbon County Stout and Unibroue's Trois Pistoles, that amounts to a tour of some of the world's most amazing beers for $5. That's an insanely wonderful bargain. The 5 ounce pours are enough to give you a legitimate taste of the beers, and you might still have room for a pint after tasting the 4. (I opted for a bottle of Founder's Double Trouble IPA, which compares nicely with Hopslam.)

Now, the bad news.

Elliott Beier, Waldo's Cicerone (think beer sommelier), my favorite beer adviser and all-around nice guy, is leaving our town for Chicago at the end of the month. He'll be at the restaurant till the end of the month - I recommend swinging by and bidding your farewell, and if you haven't met him yet, taking the time to ask his advice about the beers on his fabulous list.

(Those who may worry about Waldo sinking into beer mediocrity after his departure may rest assured that they had a great beer list before Elliott's arrival, and I expect they will continue the tradition. But Elliott's excellent taste will be missed, I am sure.)