"Fer chrissake, Carl, don't forget the goddam bottle opener!"
My old man's voice floated through the pre-dawn darkness. "You outa yer mind?" my Uncle Carl answered, his voice sharp-edged with scorn.
It was a ridiculous statement. My Uncle Carl had never been without a bottle opener since he was nine, and he didn't use the opener on Nehi Orange bottles. The day, late in his eighth year, that he discovered beer was the day he discovered Life. . .