That Night in Toronto - Polk and the Golden Tap Awards

What a night!

From the very beginning, it seems, there was always beer. In one form or another, I have been about this libation for helping define who I was and would be. For years that was the party animal, the good time guy who threw parties almost every week and found himself with more blank spaces in his memories than actual memories most nights. Copious and unapologetically a drunk, I careened through life with little regard for myself or those around me, taking stock only to crash once again in a haze of bottles and broken promises.

 And then Craft Beer fell into my life and everything started to change.

  I've chronicled so much of that trip over the last 3 years and always aimed to do so with honesty and an openness I hoped people would understand and appreciate. I wanted the regular drinking folks like me to see that craft beer wasn't for hipsters and snobs, that it was meant for everyone who wanted to change the direction of their lives and be part of something new and special. We are in a movement at it's rise and the excitement and fervent dedication to it is palpable when you talk to anyone who has recently converted. So it is to these friends and fellow travellers I speak to when I sit down to write and on Thursday, September 13th, 2018 I felt that love come back a thousand fold.

3 of my favourite people

  The Golden Tap Awards started 16 years ago as a way to celebrate all that was great about Ontario Craft Beer. Cass Enright of Bartowel.com has been the force behind the only democratically chosen beer awards for that whole time and it is because of the open ballot process that we can all express our love for the best in the province. Five years ago he created a new category for Best beer Writer in Ontario and the very deserving winner for the first 4 years was the talented Ben Johnson of Ben's Beer Blog. Hard hitting and holding back nothing, Ben calls things as he sees them and is not afraid to challenge the status quo with an eye to always being just who he is. I will be honest and say I voted for Ben because he is among a small handful of writers in Ontario that I will stop what I am doing to read their latest release. Jordan St. John (St. John's Wort), Robin Leblanc (The Thirsty Wench) and Don Redmond (BrewHaha) are among the others and I am proud to say that I count them among my dear friends now.

  3 years ago I discovered the Golden Tap Awards and for a lark, I started a tongue in cheek campaign to dethrone the then 2 time champion. I had no illusions as to my place in the world of craft beer writing but I had a lot of fun creating slogans and poking fun at myself as the voting went on. Last year I did much the same, using my Get Polk'd campaign to little effect but having a blast doing it. Once again, I never had any thought to really winning, instead existing as the blue collar guy who wrote his little blog posts and was mildly entertaining on Twitter and Youtube.
  Over the last year or so, things have begun changing on craft beer social media as more people begin to share their love of it on the different platforms and new friendships are forged over the tubes of the internet that result in real life meetups and beer mail flying back and forth across the province. While I didn't create the Drunk Polkaroo to be craft beer specific, I applaud the rise of so many people going to help raise the level of the conversation going forward. It is to these people that I want to give hope and thanks as well.
  Winning the Golden Tap Award for Best Beer Writer meant a lot more to me than I could have ever realised and the cheer I received from the people in attendance at the Ontario Brewing Awards shocked me to my core. I was worried that no one would even notice and maybe a couple of my brewer pals would say congrats but that kind of self doubt was proven baseless as the evening was filled with amazing conversations and mutual applause as so many people were rewarded for their hard work. It was a truly special night that I will never forget and I am learning to accept that maybe I do something good for the beer drinkers of this province after all.

With Sam from Sawdust!

 I hope that my win will spur on those who are hesitant to write and share their thoughts and journey into craft beer with the world. I know that a large part of people who did vote for me was not because I am a better long form writer than any of my friends, in fact, I think it is my relentless pursuit of happiness and open positivity that lead me to this point. My poems, quirky but honest daily beer reviews for over 1000 consecutive days (and counting) on Instagram and my musings on life in the raw that resonated most with people. Talking that muggy September night with friends, old and new, I was struck by the way people were responding to what I thought was just a bunch of stuff I had rattling around in my brain. It is indeed humbling when anyone says they connected with what you wrote or that they enjoy watching your videos, it was never my idea to make it anything but a fun way to distract and enjoy myself.

  So my eternal thanks to anyone who took the time to read or watch and then make the effort to vote for me. I was stunned and even now, almost two weeks later, I struggle to define what this means to me. I went to work the next day and while it was like nothing had changed, for me everything was a little different. I am left with the feeling of overwhelming love and support and I will do my best to help raise up the next generation of writers and dreamers that are just getting started. Winning a Golden tap award means a validation at a time in my life when that rarely happens and when you talk about art, not at all. The boss may tell you you did a good job or you score a bonus or raise but to me, this plaque and the people who voted for me mean more than that ever could.

A couple of award winners with Robin from Descendants!

  Going forward I hope my winning shows people that you can contribute to the conversation, you can make a connection and a difference in the craft beer community and you can do it while remaining true to who and what you are. While I am not just about the beer anymore, it remains a driving force behind my entire philosophy. My life has been irrevocably changed because I chose to share it with the world, it is my duty to make sure I help those who want to do the same to have their voices heard.

Beer stain shirt and a happy Polk

  Thank you once again and know that everything is always a little tongue in cheek but I treasure this moment for as long as I live. There are more stories to tell, more adventures to go on and I can't  to share them with you and read all about yours. May the 2019 Golden Tap award winning beer writer race be filled with more people and I will gladly hand off the torch to a new voice next year.
  But I will not go quietly or gently into that good night so I hope we can enjoy a vigorous campaign next year in the late summer and I look forward to sharing a drink with many more of you at next years awards!

It's a Major Award

Polk and Pooh - Friends Forever

 

This tattered and much loved Pooh bear has been with me for more than 4 decades. Through a mostly idyllic childhood to the troubled teen years, marriages, divorce, drugs and alcohol abuse and my recent redemption to this very moment, he has been there always. I experience life as it happens, but often wax nostalgic for a time when it wasn't about bills, problems and work. When life was about playing, imagining the impossible and thinking of a future where life continued at a dream like state long into adulthood.

  Why carry a stuffed bear from house to house, life to life? How did this little fellow manage to never get lost amongst my drunken stumbles and wanderings? I guess it's just my dumb luck that this one touchstone to where I came from and who I always thought I could be still remains by my side every day.
  Or maybe he's here because I need him.

  I had imaginary friends as a kid and while they have faded into memory and tales better told by those who found them amusing, I know Winnie was there. Troubled as a kid meant internalizing the monologue and talking to myself to figure out what was going on, something I continue to do as an adult, only now we call it Twitter.
  I had many conversations that seemed all too real with this tiny stuffed bear and as I moved through life, he came along for each ride. Sometimes stuffed in a box and not seeing the light of day for months, more often on a shelf somewhere close by so I could see him for reassurance when I got low, Pooh just sort of exists in my mind as the one thing I have that holds all those secrets, dreams and hopes in his fading plush stuffiness.

  Seeing the new Christopher Robin movie last week brought all of this back to the forefront of my mind as I sat in a darkened theatre, tears welling and laughter spilling forth at all my favourite characters coming to life once more. The achingly hard scene where Pooh wonders if Christopher Robin had forgotten him too nearly did me in as I remembered leaving behind the things of childhood and rushing headlong into work and being a Woozle. At times a touch sugary, it nevertheless captured what the pressure of what our focus becomes as we chase the dream of more things while missing the really important stuff we keep putting off to make a buck. Tigger's frantic bouncing and exuberance, Piglet's worrying and my other favourite A.A. Milne character, Eeyore giving voice to those days we don't feel so good all exist in this universe as they did in my mind and for that I am grateful. 
  That I cried at so many points in this movie has everything to do with what this little bear brought to me in his many different forms over the years. I will long carry the lessons of friendship, the value of doing nothing and staying true to who you are with me as I continue to try and find my own Hundred Acre Woods to hang out with my pal Pooh and all my other friends.

Thursdays at Home (Part 7)

"Hello..."
Languid rises the day.
  The night before stretched into the morning as his head felt heavy from what he hoped was a good time. Empty tall boys, whisky bottles and dirty glasses covered the counters as he or someone else had half heartedly attempted to clean up, piling things into the sink and spraying dishwasher liquid without turning on the water. He filled the sink and looked in the living room to see if anyone was still here, often some would linger days after a party on his largesse, keeping him company during his trips into the darkness. Seeing no one on the couch, he vaguely remembered the cabbie honking his horn as his last remaining guests had staggered into the night, off key singing and carrying something for the road.
  Silently thanking whoever called that cab, he was actually happy to alone for a bit, his headache feeling like a sledgehammer and despite the aspirin he had just taken, he still reached for a can of Caesar, already mixed and ready to go. He knew it would take much more than that to return his balance of not quite sober but not drunk and he flicked on the TV because he couldn't think of anything else to do.
  His days off work were often odd and non consecutive, so benders tended to last weird amounts of time and inevitably he had to learn to cope with being hungover and still productive at work. He was a well practiced drunk who learned the ropes at an early age from venerable masters who helped him shape his future ways with aplomb. Some electrolyte replacement with Pedialyte and copious amounts of water could help end a small one with little effort. Citrus in any form, greasy spoon breakfasts and as much Tylenol as he could manage helped for the heavier days with a little hair of the dog as a last resort, although he hadn't yet sunk as low as that in quite some time. A practiced alcoholic, he planned surprisingly well and had yet to slip up at work, although he rarely saw his family anymore, his evenings taken up with just the sort of stuff you didn't share with those who loved you before you stopped caring.
  Waking with a darkening room, he could see the clouds rolling in for the forecasted thunderstorm and welcomed the relief the cooler weather would bring. Hangovers were even worse when the humidity climbed and your body lost the hydration faster than you could replace it. The fall also signalled bigger and boozier beers from his favourite local craft brewers and of course, the whisky would flow as a the leaves fell. He didn't have a favourite season but when things got cold, he could retreat to his cellar of solitude and drink with the one person he could truly stand to be around...the guy in the mirror.