Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire Your first beer

A sip of Hulls, a local New Haven brewery. Sixty years ago I would bring out a couple pony bottles to my grand father in his garden. My reward was a sip.

Black Label, stole it from neighbors fridge he had in his garage. Circa 1973ish

jr high school .Strohs beer , one of the guys had his older brother buy it for us ,as we ent fishing down at the creek 1970's

I remember my first beer. I was 4. I didn't like it. It turned into a pi$$ing match between Dad's mom and my mom. Grandma thought all good little German boys should learn to drink beer. Mom thought it was an atrocity.

Growing up, there was plenty of beer around. Grandpa Whitey liked Wideman. Dad liked Hudepohl. It was always around the house, but I never tried any.

The thought of a beer allergy never entered into it until College. I went to a few frat parties and kept leaving early with a case of the sniffles and a bit of a headache. Gradually, I learned that I was allergic to beer and that enough of it was in the air, it'd set off a reaction. I learned to shy away from bars and beer parties. When I finally did drink alcohol, it was scotch.

Since then, I've found several other people who have a similar problem. One fellow drank beer for 20 years before he realized he was getting ridiculously sick with flu-like symptoms. He switched to the hard stuff and the problem went away. We'd known each other since high school, and he was happy to know there was at least one other guy out there that was that way.

It's funny, but other yeasty things don't bother me. I can eat sourdough bread without a problem. Wine gives me a bit of a problem, but not nearly as much as beer.

My dad and some family members were laying blocks for the basement of the house I grew up in. I kept sneaking sips of their short neck PBR's. I was 4-ish.

it's been a long time ago.

My parents didn't drink very much at all, but some summer evenings, they'd send me - age probably five - to the local tavern with a nickel-plated beer bucket. The 'tender would fill it with draft and I'd carry it home. That's how well everybody knew everybody in neighborhoods back then. I never took a sip.

About that same time, Dad visited somebody down the road on the tractor, with me riding along by standing on the spreader bar at the back. The neighbor gave him a bottle of beer as we left, and Dad ave me a big swallow. I vividly recall having something of a hard time staying on the spreader bar on the bouncy ride home!

Guessing 11 or 12 and it was Olympia for the win.

Probably a Black Label or a High Life.

Don't remember how old but pretty young, Pops would let me sip whatever he was having.

Drinking won't a taboo or something to hide in my family but sloppy drunk was frowned on.

Pops told me early on alcohol would let out the stupid most of us hold back sober....

When I was a wee lad, of about five, Mom gave me a small juice glass and she would pour a few oz. of her beer in it for me.

She must have not liked me "backwashing" in her beer.

She converted to Mormonism when I was about eight, and that all went away.

Virgil B.

Hamm's..

Probably when I was 5 or 6. My mother used to give us half a glass when we ate crabs.

Mine was reportedly an Oly at age 3, which can had been opened to make beer batter for walleye my dad and I had caught that day. As the legend goes, I was told to put the can down until after I'd recited the table prayer which I followed up with "Now can I have some beer?"

Found an unopened can in a ditch on a Boy Scout clean up drive. Don't remember the brand, but it was winter and the beer was kind of cold so a couple of us drank it. was probably 11 or 12.

Falstaff

Stolen.

Ain’t no way I remember that, too many brain cells burned off

Heidelberg circa 1969. Tasted like shiit.

Olympia.

Grade school friends, parents always had a fridge full and we'd occasionally sneak a can and run down to the old, run down train depot, down the tracks and share it.

They moved away when I was in 3rd grade.

8th grade. Spent the night at my buddies house. One of his dairy workers bought us a 12 pack. Coors original.
The next morning, my buddy puked so hard that it gave him two black eyes. Lol