Dry January? “Sunday musings…” 1/19/2025
1) Martini. A classic cocktail containing gin and vermouth that is stirred. Typically garnished with a pimento-stuffed olive. Substitute a cocktail onion and you no longer have a martini; you have concocted a Gibson.
2) Bradford. If you shake your gin and vermouth cocktail you have made a Bradford. It may be just me (it often is), but I think James Bond would have been even cooler had he pointed this out in the very first Fleming novel, and asked for a Bradford thereafter.
3) Turow. Lawyer turned author Scott Turow introduced himself to us with “Presumed Innocent”, a novel I read in the caddy shack one summer. One wonders if his latest, “Presumed Guilty” will complete the arc of his career, not unlike Don Winslow who has taken his leave from staring at the “blank page” with the publication of his “City Trilogy”.
Either way, how cool would it be to see Harrison Ford reprise Rusty Sabich?
4) Commitments. No, not making some kind of grand January commitment on top of whatever resolutions you made (and have likely already forsaken). I’m talking about the movie from the early ’90’s that followed an Irish start-up band that played classic R&B while their “manager” pined for a meeting with Wilson Pickett. Did you see it? I stumbled upon the soundtrack after listening to the Blues Brothers, and now Beth and I have it on while I pound away at my MacBook.
We definitely won’t be watching football tonight.
5) Dry. “I find abstinence to be as easy as I find moderation to be hard. ” –St. Augustine
“I have to admit to never giving much thought to where juniper comes from. It seemed good enough to know that without juniper there is not gin; without gin there are no Martinis; and absent Martinis you have a dystopia too awful to contemplate.” –Eric Felton in the WSJ
“I drink champagne when I’m happy and when I’m sad. Sometimes I drink it when I’m alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I’m not hungry and drink it when I am. Otherwise, I never drink it–unless I’m thirsty.” –Lily Bollinger
Dry January is confusing. At least to me it is. I mean, if you abstain on a schedule without any larger incentive or inspiration than the randomness of the Roman calendar, is it even abstinence? I get traditional fasts like Ramadan and the various abstentions Catholics impose on themselves during Lent. There is a cultural significance, an ancestral gathering of sorts. Totally get it.
But Dry January? Sorry, I don’t get it.
Now please don’t conflate this with the notion that I somehow don’t understand the need for abstinence when true substance abuse or addiction is in play. There has been a bunch of all sorts of that in our extended families, and our living relatives so afflicted would agree with St. Augustine on the choice of abstinence. And I don’t really have any trouble or quarrel with folks who use January as a way to re-set their relationship with alcohol, or Pringles for that matter. It’s just another part of the declaration of better intentions made on behalf of yourself, and by extension those who care about you, in which we indulge as we hang a new calendar on the fridge.
Nope, it’s the nagging feeling of being nagged that sours my mood as surely as too much citrus fouls any number of classic cocktails. In truth it took Tressie McMillan Cottom’s column in the Sunday Times for this realization to bubble to the surface. I’ve always felt a certain unease with the way people publicize their Dry January plans and progress. Not everyone of course, but enough folks not just celebrating their decision but doing so from the pulpit. Preachy and judgy is how Ms. Cottom describes articles and posts. People who always, or nearly always abstain, because of addiction or otherwise, typically just say “no thanks” or simply order a Diet Coke. Dry Januarians seem compelled to tell you all about “why”.
Perhaps I’m a bit more cranky this January, coming as it does a couple of weeks after the Scolder…er…Surgeon General declared that minimal to moderate alcohol consumption raises the risk of multiple cancers so high that a newer, more damning warning should be put on every bottle or can. Just in time for Dry January. He did so despite an announcement literally only weeks prior by the NHI saying that with the possible exception of breast cancer, those who consume small to moderate amounts of alcohol have a lower “all cause” mortality than teetotalers, a conclusion reached with “moderate to strong certainty.”
I’ve always gotten a kick out of the George Thoroughgood song “I Drink Alone.” It’s catchy, has a couple of neat guitar licks, and rather than being an anthem for solo drinking it pokes fun at the very notion. At least for me. Have you watched the Netflix documentary on so-called “Blue Zones” where people tend to live longer, happier lives? With the exception of a Quaker community, all of these places tend to be ones in which people gather regularly and routinely, whether or not they are tippling. But tipple they do, in the company of friends and family. Do they get together in order to drink, or do they drink because they are together? The author of the study from which the documentary was made doesn’t examine that nuance.
Again, I honestly don’t care if you do or don’t choose to drink. It’s really a very personal choice, one that can be made for innumerable reasons, none of which are really anyone’s business. When I was a kid I chose not to indulge in cannabis, and as I got older by extension not to partake in any of the other various mind-altering substances available to those so inclined. Doesn’t really matter why, and I’m not sure I’ve ever really talked about it with almost anyone. And that’s probably what grates about Dry January, those that need to tell almost everyone all about it.
There is one circumstance where you are quite welcome to share your Dry January plans, though. If we are together, out for dinner or taking in a ballgame either at the arena or in one of our buddy’s living rooms, feel free to let us all know that you won’t be having a cocktail, glass of wine, or a beer. We are hanging out, not checking out each other’s InstaFace Tokster posts, and we are likely friendly enough that face to face we will forgive you a little victory dance. Your’e sober, after all; how crazy are you gonna get.
We’re all just thankful that you’ve volunteered to be the Designated Driver for 31 straight days.
Damp or dry, I’ll see you next week…
This entry was posted on Sunday, January 19th, 2025 at 3:27 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.