GUEST COLUMNIST: The Power of a cold brew

As we celebrate the last summer of the millennium -- well, I guess that's really a year from now for the nitpickers, but humor me -- it's worth while to sit back and reflect upon human history. Few things have remained nearly constant over the last 1000 years, but the two I find most relevant are the scornful heat of unforgiving summers and the frosty antidote for this predicament -- a delicious glass of beer. Of course, it surely took many years for the twain to meet. Beer did not always taste like the arguably flavorsome beverage we consume today, nor was it always appropriately chilled. But when the oldest civilized race on earth, the Sumerians, noticed 6,000 years ago that when left alone, dough began to ferment, they soon discovered a scrumptious drink. This drink, fit for a deity, was reserved by the Sumerians for sacrifices to their godlike idols and kings, but later consumed by the Egyptians and early Germans alongside their sacrifices. Beer is now America's beverage of choice. Everyone's drinking it, from the scrawny college freshmen chugging The Beast at his first fraternity party to those middle-aged dudes in diamond-patterned sweaters who go to trendy bars and drink their fancy microbrews. Today, there are enough pub songs and drinking games to fill volumes of books. This devotion and interest for the beverage was evident even thousands of years ago, when a popular Finnish poet dedicated 400 verses to beer, reserving only 200 for the book of Genesis. It must have been many years later, after the birth of the icebox, that beer and summer truly tied the knot. There is perhaps nothing better to look forward to after a trying day in the brutal heat than a cold glass of beer and some good company. This brings me to my next point: While we have come so far in many ways as a civilized people, we have not yet harnessed the true healing and dealing potential of "having a beer." Honestly, in my short life I have seen friendships mended, fights averted and romances develop all solely due to the magical power of a beer. For example: Jason borrows his friend Tom's jacket and spills grape juice and motor oil on it by accident. Tom has a big date the next day and is looking forward to wearing his lucky jacket. But the cleaner tells Jason there is no way they can have the jacket cleaned in time for Tom's date. Now there are several ways this scenario could play out. Possibility A: Tom asks where his jacket is, Jason plays dumb and escapes a confrontation but drives himself insane with guilt. Possibility B: Jason apologizes to Tom and offers to pay to have the jacket cleaned. The jacket eventually is saved but the friendship is forever ruined. Possibility C: Before Tom even asks where the jacket is, Jason invites him to their local drinking hole and buys a round of beers. Jason breaks the news to him lightly and offers to pick up the cleaning tab and loan Tom a suitable substitute. Tom thanks Jason for his honesty and his friendship and all uneasiness is averted. The point of posing this absurd scenario is to prove the healing skills of this special beverage. For although some pairs of good buddies may have the sense to respect the power of a beer, much of the world has not. I would much rather see Clinton and his visiting dignitaries head off to knock back a few in lieu of a worthless stroll in the Rose Garden. How many summits could have been avoided if Gorby and Ron had just blown the froth off some tall boys? How many wars and skirmishes could have been foregone if only the two sides had communicated with the universal beverage once fit only for kings and gods? All of them, I suggest both naively and curiously. When the year 1000 turned, many English peasants couldn't read or write and they thought you could walk to the edge of the earth and fall off. Today, not only do we American peasants know the earth is, in fact, round, but we also know much more. Go out today and drink a few beers with a friend.