Rock and Rye and Tiramisu

     The liquor in our house really is on the top shelf, but it’s a far cry from the expensive, high-end stuff bartenders keep on their lighted displays.

     Ours is out of reach, right above the Theraflu, Benadryl and vitamin C, and right beside the nasty concoctions that only come down when the norovirus comes to town. This is its rightful place because, at our house, the Rock and Rye is purely medicinal. Seriously.

     I know that is cliché, but it’s true. We’re teetotalers. It’s a moral choice, a religious conviction and medical wisdom.

     Morally, it’s hard for me to justify paying a ridiculously high price for beer, wine, liquor and even a caramel-spiced, half-caf, vanilla-infused latte when any other beverage is half the price or less. I’ve also personally witnessed the regrettable actions of the inebriated. The resultant hurt feelings and embarrassment, I can live without.

     Religiously, I see folks turning to alcohol when they should be turning to Jesus. It seems to me they could be in conflict with the first commandment. I’m also a little put off by those who say their adult beverage is no different than a glass of tea, Coca-Cola or water. That’s not the message I get when I see a cocktail or craft beer staged, cropped, filtered and glorified on Instagram and Twitter. It’s curious to me that I seldom see a glass of tea of ice water honored in such a way.

     Medically speaking, alcohol and my family don’t mix. Ours is a long, sad history of alcoholism, cirrhosis, ulcers and such. I watched my dad and a few uncles struggle most of their lives, powerless over an unquenchable thirst for moonshine, homebrew of cheap liquor. That’s a risk I’m not willing to take.

     So, I keep the Rock and Rye on the top shelf. There’s not a better cough medicine available. Mixed with honey and lemon, it is our go-to remedy when all the store-bought medicines have failed. Back in the day there were real cough syrups. The throat-burning cherry flavor of old-timey Creomulsion, now that was a cough medicine. The old fashioned Comtrex that is now illegal to make, that stuff worked. These new medicines are laughable. Why would I pay $10 for four ounces of a watered down nothing, when I can get 16 ounces of cough-stopping whiskey for $5?

     I don’t think Jesus is gonna be mad at me for my top-shelf liquor. I also don’t think he’s going to keep me out of the Pearly Gates for the Kahlua that’s up there, ready for the next tiramisu.

     Now that I think about it, I’m gonna have to be careful with the tiramisu. I’m pretty sure I posted a picture of it on Instagram the last time my wife made it for me. And, it would not be beyond the realm of possibility for me to turn to it for comfort or satisfaction. It could be argued that, when I take that first, moist, delectable bite, it is enrapturing.

     Thank you, Jesus, for cough medicine and tiramisu. God is good, all the time.