Parachute

Two of my friends recently went sky diving. They were telling me about their experience and how much of a rush it was. They loved it so much that they booked another date to do it immediately afterwards. While I can appreciate how amazing this was for them, it's not something I'd ever want to do. I'm a huge fans of rollercoasters and the like, but the whole sensation of free fall? I'd pick scotch sipping over free falling any day. There is something to be said, however, in getting comfortable with the panic sensation that comes in thrill-seeking activities like that.

Fourth of July weekend was a long one this year, since the 4th is on a Tuesday. The Sunday before, my friend was having a wineberry picking party. Earlier in the day, I stopped in the Whiskey Jar for another blind tasting. One of the songs I heard while I was there was by Chris Stapleton. I hadn't heard of him before, but one of the lyrics caught my ear: "you only need a drink when the whisky is the only thing you have left to hold." Listening to some of his other songs, a lot of them have the whisky theme; I definitely approve. The song with that lyric I mentioned is called Parachute. If you're curiosity is peaked about that free-fall feeling, pour yourself a hearty dram, kick your feet up, close your eyes, and take a listen:

When I got to the bar it was completely empty. Codi was bartending. I think she was also on duty several months ago when I first met one of the lads I was putting up to the test that afternoon - Ardbeg Corryvrecken.

Corry's challenger was Bunnahabhain 12. Both of these lads I have very fond memories of, yet each I had only spent time with once or twice.  Codi poured me a taste of each, and I chatted with them side by side.


The first thing I noticed as a clear difference between the two of them was in the nose. The one on the left had a strong smokefire scent, while the one on the right was definitely more earthy. The left brought to mind more ash, while the right had a bit of fruit and butter.


The first sips before adding water, showed the left lad to be spicy, rich, and warm. He had a bit of a sharp bite to the tongue and some citrus notes. The lad on the right was also rich and warm, but smooth and fuller, with a hint of bitter on the finish. After a few sips I sensed they both had a creamy feel, and I started to notice a bitterness in the one on the left as well. Overall so far, the right lad was sweeter, and the left lad a bit on the rougher side. At this point I was thinking the one of the left was Corryvrecken, but I wasn't entirely sure. I added a bit of water with the dropper bottle Codi was so kind as to provide, and watched how their personalities developed...

The nose for the lad on the right became more inviting. He was very pleasant, and I sensed notes of sweet vanilla and fruity caramel. The lad on the left retained more smoke on his nose, and it made me think distinctly of barbecue. There was also notes of banana and more astringent elements.

Water intensified the left lad's character - he became hotter and spicier, especially on the finish. He was clearly stronger, and had a dry citrusy bitterness overlaying his personality. The lad on the right was softened by the water - the smoke faded, but I did sense new notes of pepper and brine come forth.


As I let the lads reveal themselves in sips and starts, the bar filled up with a few other customers. John, one of the other bartenders was also there (off duty) and we chatted a bit about writing and life. He is also a writer, and has developed a strong love of screen writing, which is something I've never gotten into. It's remarkable that even among interests and preferences, there is still a vast world of differences. Regardless of what the medium or forum may be, it becomes more clear to me everyday that you really have to know not just what you like, but also which of the many things that you may like, fits best to who you are.

As I continued the conversation with Bunna and Corry, trying to discern which of the two I preferred, it was clear to me that I didn't have a strong preference for either. They each had their pros and cons. In some ways I liked the one on the right better, and in some ways the one on the left. Another interesting thing was that at times things seemed to switch back and forth. I had started to think I preferred the one on the right, but by the end I realized this wasn't the case.

The one on the left had a better overall mix of flavors, and also was the only of the two to retain any strong sense of smoke in nose or to taste. He was warmer and more welcoming when it was all said and done. The one on the right seemed to become more bitter as the night progressed, and this flavor appeared at the end that I couldn't identify. He seemed more aloof and a little more harsh by the time the glass was empty.

When I was ready to leave, Codi revealed to me who was who - and Corry was the one on the left, which is what I had guessed. I wasn't completely sure, and there were moments that I thought the opposite as I spoke with them both, but I had a strong sense by the end. He was definitely the one of the two I preferred, if not by much.

For a large part of my younger years, I questioned what I liked if it didn't fit with what was expected, or I allowed myself to be influenced by the likes and preferences of others. A gift and sign of maturity is being able to appreciate the value in things, and perhaps even delight in them yourself, but also be able to know with a strong conviction whether or not those things are right for you. That's a lesson I think that can also be found in drinking Scotch.

There are hundreds of lads, and thousands of opinions for each one. There are so many things that come into play in determining which is a fit for someone, and so often it doesn't follow the rules. Sometimes, you just have to close your eyes and jump, trusting that your heart, like a parachute, will open up just in time.

Dalwhinnie 15

The new year has started off with busyness that is too much a reminder of yesteryear. I am a lover of resolutions though, and although I am continually making changes and new goals throughout my days, I find January an especially fitting time to refresh this process. In with the new! (And absolutely out with the old.)

I find I am different than most in the regard that I don't have unreasonable expectations of myself in terms of growth and change. I know change is challenging, and it often takes time and repeated efforts. Normally I can get my new year's plans off to a good start within the first week or so. This year, though, I'm going to need the whole month.

I managed to escape from duties the other night to meet a new Scotch. It was a cold and rainy night, and I teetered for a minute with deciding to stay in. I made my way out into the night though, and was pleasantly surprised when I walked through the door of Miller's to see Matthew O'Donnell setting up for an apparently impromptu show. I smiled, thinking of my last post and the beauty of serendipity.

Matthew is a fellow Irish musician, but of a caliber way beyond my realm of skill. I'm not sure there is an instrument he doesn't play, and he has a deep, rich singing voice besides. It was quite a treat to stumble upon his show this Tuesday evening.

In honor of the gifts of chance, close your eyes, pick a bottle, and pour yourself a dram to enjoy while listening to a time-honored classic, Whisky in the Jar:

Miller's has proven a wonderful place to visit thus far in my journey to find the perfect Scotch. However, I have tried almost all of the ones they carry at this point, and definitely all of the Islays. So I ordered a Highland lad that I have heard good things about, knowing it would lead to nothing more than a lovely conversation - Dalwhinnie 15.


I like the Highland lads; I don't recall one I've met that was unpleasant, and Dalwhinnie lived up to that reputation. His nose was mild, with a distant and subdued sense to it, and a bit of spice. Tasting revealed notes of cinnamon, which I enjoyed.


I found him to be a kind and friendly sort of Scotch. After adding a bit of water his flavor opened a bit, bringing his spice more into my awareness, and revealing a sweet caramel scent to his nose. I'd say he was one of the more enjoyable Highlands actually, but even so...I missed the smoky peat of my Islay and Island lads.

When I first arrived at the bar it was fairly empty, but half way through my dram the door opened and a large group of jovial folks poured in and immediately started ordering drinks and shouting out requests to Matthew. Just like that, the vibe of the evening shifted.

When he next had a moment, I asked Drew the bartender if this was a usual Tuesday crowd. "No," was his reply, "there's usually no one here." I was glad for both him and Matthew, hoping the rowdy crowd would be generous in their tipping.

Reading the crowd, Matthew departed from the usual folk tunes that I've always heard him play into a random assortment of more mainstream songs.


From Take Me Home Country Roads, to Mumford & Son's Little Lion Man, to Love The Way You Lie by Eminem - he encouraged the less-than-sober audience to sing along, and I happily did my part. Between enjoying the music and watching the crowd's interactions, I was highly entertained and grateful for the surprising turn of events. I had only planned to stay a short while, not expecting much from the evening, but now I didn't want to leave.

I had finished my chat with Dalwhinnie, however, so decided to have another meeting with the Islay from a few weeks ago - Bunnahabhain 15.

As I relaxed into my new dram, I mused on the art of performance. Besides being a musician (and the artistic talent, skill, and dedication required for that) being a performer is an entire art unto itself. There's a degree of acting involved in it, especially for those who are generally introverts. But being an actor, to me, doesn't imply that one is a good performer. Charm, I'd say is probably the most important element in performing - whether it be natural or part of the acting. To be able to engage the audience in a way that draws their attention, involving them, and often making them feel as if the show is being presented specifically for them - these are the things that make a good performer.

This occupation, which may seem frivolous and extraneous on the surface, is quite essential to the well-being of a society. For in a world with no shortage of pain and heartache, we need folks who will inspire us, make us laugh, and remind us that there is a reason for living. Good performers do all of this and more. It is a skill I'd love to develop more in myself, as I think the world may need more reminders of these things in the coming days.

Matthew alternated back and forth between the folk music and the more popular songs, engaging the crowd all the while. I sipped my Scotch and enjoyed the Islay spunk that I had missed. Between the Scotch, the Song, and the Soul - for the rest of the evening, I found a restorative moment of joy amidst whatever else life may be filled with.

Bunnahabhain 12

I went to see the new Star Wars movie the other night with a few friends. Rogue One - it's the first of the Star Wars Anthology that stands alone from the trilogies, and while it is part of the story, there are only very few character cross overs. It's the type of movie that may well be enjoyable on its own to someone completely unfamiliar with Star Wars (who are those people anyway though?!) but is rich with gems of delight only recognized by those who have seen the others, and are familiar with the greater saga. Like a well-crafted single malt, there are layers that build upon each other in these kinds of stories. Their beauty and potential for enjoyment blooms exponentially with each new element.

The Star Wars soundtracks have never disappointed. Pour yourself a dram of a most complex favorite, and take a listen. Be sure to pay attention to all the layers - from the quiet and the subtle, to the glaring and potent, and remember that a symphony's magic arises from the synergy of all the pieces working together...

Before the movie, we visited Miller's downtown where I tried a lovely new Islay Scotch - Bunnahabhain 12. It was wonderful after so long, to meet a new fellow from that region again - the region so known for bestowing unto the spirits born there, the smoky flavor I love so much.  At the tail end of a cold, my tasting was impaired so I knew there was more to this one than I was able to experience at the time. Even so, I found him deliciously enticing and completely satisfying.


He was warm and inviting, with a deep flavor that kept drawing me back in for another sip. I tasted cinnamon and spice, but couldn't discern any other specific flavors due to my cold. Bunnahabhain was strong, but softened slightly by a creamy texture. After spending so much time with the Highland lads, or those from Speyside or other regions, it was such a pleasure, and almost a relief to be with one of this kind again. Even in the fun, lively conversation with my friends, I found myself entranced by this Islay each time my lips touched the glass.

I couldn't even actually taste the characteristic peatiness, but somehow the effects of its flavor still pervaded my senses, and I found myself ordering another glass...

It was a varied group of folks I had with me: one of my closest friends who knows me very well; her boyfriend, whom I've only started know; another friend, much younger than me, whom I only know a little; and one friend I've known and worked with for years, but haven't seen in a quite a while. Despite the difference in age or familiarity, we all seemed comfortable and relaxed in each other's presence, perhaps aided by our shared anticipation of seeing the movie.

I've been thinking a lot about friends and friendship, and how they may hold the key to a powerful opportunity. We each have a story which weaves in and out of connection with the stories of others.


Some threads stay obviously joined and some drift apart. There are others too, that may seem disconnected, but if you follow back far enough, may be found to have strong ties with, at times, the most unexpected of others.  

We begin our journeys with an almost infinite number of possibilities ahead of us. But for each choice made, countless others are turned away from. The choices we make carve our paths, and inevitably involve sacrifice. We may find ourselves one day asking all the "what ifs," knowing we will never have an answer. And yet, we have friends...

Sometimes as the seasons of our lives shift, certain friendships will wax or wane, but true friends seem to have a bond that outlasts these changes. Even when life takes two people on such different paths that their known worlds and existences vary so vastly from one another, a true friendship will overcome these circumstances.

It has occurred to me, that there is a beauty to be found in the parting destinies of such friends - for therein may like the key to "having it all."  The way to live many lives, and satisfy all the "what ifs." is to have a diverse group of true friends. I am not a mother, but I have a deep friendship with a few mothers, and I can share in their joys and woes to taste what motherhood might be like. I am not married, but I have good friends that are married, and some that have been divorced, and some even that have married again. I did not live these things, but I have experienced vicariously through my friends, just as they have shared in my experiences of things they have never known.

Our time in this world is finite, and no matter how much we may want to try new things and live new experiences, there is a limit to what is possible. There are only a certain amount of hours in the day, and a certain amount of days in our lives.

In the greater picture, as our stories are written by the fates, or god, or chance - to welcome the importance of each character's individual tale is to discover a wealth of meaning that may be missed otherwise. Knowing my friends' stories enriches mine, and this continues, layer upon layer, enriching and intensifying, and deepening as it goes.  Just like a perfectly aged Scotch, or the epic stories of the ages - distilled through years of tradition into a perfect experience incapable of being put into words, but undeniably rich with wonder. I'll drink to that.