Pat Shingleton: Exploding Beer
Thursday's column shared memories of Christmas Day and Night. Relatives enjoyed Christmas dinner leftovers, relocated to the kitchen table for another feast. Christmas tunes were cranked-out on the upright piano and when Uncle Jim, Uncle Paul, Uncle Willy or Uncle Dick requested another "beverage," we trekked outside the backdoor to retrieve it from the snow bank. Numerous cases of Iron City, Fort Pitt, Duke and Old Frothingslosh were tucked into the snow and when the evening ended, the beer wasn't retrieved. An overnight low of 18 degrees exploded the beer bottles, leaving patches of "beer snow". Neighborhood kids with new Christmas sleds were sent-on-their-way by our Mom for attempting to imbibe; she wanted an immediate melt down.
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