Beer in the Drab Household

Memories of our family written by Michael Hansen, Sep 2007. (note: this is also posted on Louise's Legacy site)

Dear Carin,

You asked for it, here it is! (regarding request for the “beer story”)

Grandma Drab (Aloysia) was a bit of a prude. She didn't approve of drinking (although all of my uncles, after the example of their father, loved their beer. I guess it was a Bohemian trait.) When I was 16, my father gave me permission to have a glass of beer or wine with dinner, if I would promise not to drink outside the family circle. Since I didn't care for beer, (ME?), I agreed. That year, when we were at the Berry Hill Rd. domicile for our Thanksgiving celebration, Uncle Joe came into the room and asked "Who wants a beer with dinner?" Well, just to irritate Grandma, I said "I will!" Grandma right away declared, "No you won't, Michael!" And I said, "Yes I will, Grandma. My father said I can have a beer with my meals, if I want !" Grandma turned her wrath on him; "Is that true, John?" she asked, accusingly. "Yes, that's right, Momma." My father answered, sheepishly. Well, I got my beer, and regretted it. It ruined an otherwise delicious Thanksgiving dinner. I hated beer, but I made my point! Which brings me to my real story... I learned to love beer, thanks to my term as a campus chaplain at the Stephens Institute of Technology in Hoboken, where I was inducted into the Sigma Phi Epsilon fraternity, and was FORCED to drink beer, but that's a whole 'nother story.

Grandma didn't allow Grandpa (Aloysia & Frank hereafter referred to as Momma and Poppa) to keep more than a six-pack in the refrigerator (which she always called the "Frigidaire") at any one time. So when Momma died in June of 1967, just before I was ordained, my Father decided that we should drive out the following month to see how Poppa was doing. As we pulled up in front of 124 Berry Hill Road, there was Poppa sitting in his rocker on the porch as usual. As we walked up, the first thing he said (after “Hello”) was "Do you want a beer?" (It was a hot day.) "Michael, go to the fridge and get us each a beer." I did, and opened the fridge to see the entire refrigerator stocked with bottles of beer, except for the top shelf , which held a token milk, butter, and eggs! Poppa had triumphed!

Uncle John just told me Pop's favorite brand for years was Knickerboker, which went out of business in the 50's, but has since been resurrected as a microbrewery in Brooklyn. Then Pop switched to the old stand-by, Budwiser, which he referred to as "My friend, Bud."

Additional factoid: when Pop met Momma he worked on the Cutter Estate in Oak Dale, just outside of Bayshore. Momma was an upstairs maid on another estate. John couldn't remember the name.

love, Uncle Michael