A Taste of Wine
Sun., October 13, 11:17 AM
Today CBS’s “Sunday Morning” reminded me of a bit of irony. The feature was about Gaither and Brecher, authors of a wine column and a couple of books about wine.
Alcohol was not around during my early childhood. My parents seldom drank. Wine was for religious ceremonies. Drunks were not respectable people in the neighborhood.
As teenagers, of course, we had to experiment. Certainly in college, where we were on a dry campus in a dry township, we had to challenge the rules. Pharmacy students used hypodermics to inject vodka into oranges. But we also developed a sense of what was too much. It was one thing for a girl to return to her dormitory a little tipsy. It was something else, generally frowned upon, for that girl to come home falling down drunk and throwing up in the front yard.
Once it was no longer “forbidden fruit,” the novelty wore off. We all went off to continue our lives and, for the most part, no one from our group was an alcoholic. We were controlled, social drinkers.
What changed it for me was a party I attended when I was in my mid-twenties. My sister was driving, so there was no reason why I couldn’t have a couple of drinks – and I did, with no ill effects. Then someone offered a dollar to anyone who could name the Seven Dwarfs. Piece of cake, right? I was a Trivia whiz even before it was a common Pursuit. I listed six and couldn’t remember the seventh. Another person said, “would you repeat those?” and this time I got all seven. But I was shaken.
One of the things I’ve been proudest of is my good memory, my ability to recall odds and ends when no one else can. However, it seems that a little alcohol dulls my reflexes just that little bit. I was not about to give up a part of my essence to a chemical. The benefits just didn’t outweigh the liabilities.
After that, I consciously reduced my alcohol intake. If I was at a business function where drinks were served, I might have one; but then I would switch to soda water with a twist, an innocuous drink that looked like a highball. And I observed another phenomenon. As everyone else continued to drink, they sort of drifted away from me, and I became an observer rather than a participant. This didn’t appeal to me.
I still liked wine, though I noticed that more than one glass would probably make me sleepy. Just a built-in safeguard, I guess; it’s kind of hard to become an alcoholic when the second glass of wine puts you out of circulation entirely. But wine is fascinating, and I always wanted to learn more about it. I never did, and I never told anyone about it; I thought maybe I would marry a wine connoisseur who would teach me all about wines of the world.
You can laugh here; my son usually starts to snicker at this point in the story. Husband’s idea of wine begins and ends with sweet kosher wine. If we ever went anyplace where wine was served – even a little champagne – I usually finished my first glass and his, and that was all I’d have for the evening.
Then, a few years ago – unbeknownst to me – Son began studying about wine. When he’s going to learn something, he really works on it, takes lessons, talks to experts, and so on. When he told me about that, I was delighted. At last, an instructor!
Unfortunately, at about the same time, medications were prescribed for me that are labeled, “Do not drink alcoholic beverages.” When Son takes me to a fancy restaurant, he orders wine and I order soda water with a twist, or else the ubiquitous Diet Coke. I pick up his wine glass and swirl it around. I sniff the aroma and look at the color and the texture. Maybe I allow myself a tiny sip. Me as a wine authority? It was not meant to be.
