small.town.girl

Life can change so quickly. Just a matter of seconds can change the course of years, and mere minutes can determine life or death. One doesn’t usually consider how fragile life is on a daily basis when going about work that seems both tedious and straightforward. In this case, climbing a ladder on an ordinary day to do a task that wasn’t quite part of the job description but nonetheless a responsibility borne by an overburdened plant manager almost cost a life. And now those of us who love this man sit reeling in the aftermath.

Tragedy is personal. Nine years ago, the nation faced September 11 and a week later that paled in comparison to a car accident at my high school. A year ago, my godfather was killed in a traffic accident; he left behind a wonderful, loving wife and two sons who have since become fathers without their father in their life. It is horrifying what these families have gone through. To anyone who has lost someone completely, who has had someone suddenly ripped from their life, my sadness may seem selfish. I make no apologies for my egocentricity. I acknowledge that each individual disaster is its own experience. All I can do is live in this moment. I am heartbroken. I am helpless.

So I continue to stalk Facebook for news and ask friends for prayers. I carry on spreading the word about this horrible accident, his condition, his prognosis to those who care to listen. I keep talking about him with a stiff lip and no tears because I am resolute in my strength. I wait for news; all sources report slightly different descriptions, but it’s all I have to go on at this time. I fear actually seeing the damage, because I know my strength will leave me and I will have to face the magnitude of what happened. In text it is just a story, a bad dream. The change has not yet been realized in this house, though the emptiness is starting to show itself.

Now that I know how quickly things can change, I try to stay optimistic, but I fear bad news. The helplessness mixes with hope, but nothing is finite. I must subsist on the love and prayers of friends and family and maintain my own good thoughts. I must remember that many people feel this tragic heartbreak, because many people love this man. My biggest hope is that he knows how much we all care.

Dogfish Head Beer is easily one of my favorite beverages. I am a fan not only because many of the brews are tasty, but also because the story of these craft brewed Delaware delights is so intriguing. The founder of Dogfish Head, Sam Calagione, was an English major who started a brewpub in 1995 at the age of 25. His brewpub grew exponentially since then, and now DFH is a mid-Atlantic empire, even seeing expansion in the face of 2009′s recession. DFH has built a culture around their ales, or perhaps the beer has evolved around the off-centered culture; the off-centeredness is seen not only in the taste of the ales themselves, but also in the employees and avid fans of their craft brewing, of whom my father may be #1. My Dad, Dan and I rang in the new year in Rehoboth Beach, DE at a dinner celebrating DFH’s 15 years in the brewing business and toured the brewery (with its new and improved visitors’ center) before we headed back to PA. Though I’ve done the brewery tour before, I was especially struck by the knowledge of our guide John and convinced that I do, in fact, need to evangelize this fabulous company’s off-centered ales to other off-centered people around the world.

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