Johnny Wraith Stories

In seeking the soul the flesh must fall away

Barrel of Wine

Barrel of Wine
Johnny Wraith - Tue Apr 10, 2007 @ 07:52PM
Comments: 6

"Daddy, I just don't know what to do!" she cried into the phone.

"What do you mean, my dear daughter?" His Hungarian accent was much thicker than hers.

"It's Johnny."

"Yes? How is my beloved son-in-law?"

"Daddy... I just don't know what to do!"

"Yes? You can tell me. I am your father. I do not pass judgment. I only offer opinions, and they are not worth much because I am only a shoemaker."

"Johnny drinks an entire bottle of wine each night!"

"Oh my, I can see now why you are troubled. One bottle is quite a lot. My fifth wife, Udit, used to drink that much each night. Her drinking brought our marriage to an end. Her tantrums were incredible! Granted, she is half Johnny's size, but, a gallon of wine..."

"Er... Daddy? Did you say one gallon?"

"Yes."

"Johnny doesn't have that much! He drinks the smaller bottles. Udit drank a gallon?"

"Yes."

 How much is that in liters?"

"Oh, my dear daughter, I still don't know what a gallon is in liters. It is an English thing. But it is a lot more than a liter! I know that much. So Johnny only drinks the half gallon then?"

"No Daddy. He drinks the 750ml bottle."

"Oh dear. This is what you are worried about?"

"Yes Daddy."

The old Hungarian shoemaker chuckles through the phone.

"Daddy?"

"I have a confession to make. And now I am, I worry, the one to bring shame upon the family."

"What is it?"

"I can only tell you if you promise not to judge your father."

"Yes. Yes. I promise."

"Well. You see. For more than 40 years, I have been drinking 1 liter of wine a night, and now I am nearly 70, but the ladies all say I am as vigorous as a man in his 50's."

"1 liter!"

"Yes, this is my confession to you, my dear daughter, but you must never tell your brothers of this horrible sin your father brings to the family."

"But Daddy! Your health! You drink more than Johnny!"

"The wine is what gives me my health, my dear child. Don't the American doctors now confirm this ancient truth?"

"Not a liter!"

"Well, it is only smart to be conservative with medical opinions."

"They say 2 glasses, not a bottle, not a liter, not a gallon!"

"My daughter, I will tell you a story about your grandfather. He had 12 children, was a religious man, and respected throughout the village. Did you know that he drank a liter of wine each day?"

"No."

"You see, he kept a barrel of wine under the floorboards of the pantry and only the neighbor lady knew the secret. Each morning, Papa would arise at 5 in the morning, fill his liter of wine from the barrel, and then lower it into the well to cool. At noon, with his lunch, he'd drink half, and at supper he'd drink the other half. For 50 years he did this. He made many children and instructed many grandchildren, and everyone, his family, the village, and even the village doctor sought him for his wisdom. At 80-years-of-age, he could still work in the fields all day with the 20-year-old boys. Then the Communists came. They searched Papa's house, found his barrel of wine, and took it away. The next week, Papa died in his sleep.

When the phone call ended, and each said, "I love you," Daddy's little girl uncorked a fresh bottle of wine, poured out a glass, and delivered it to Johnny with a kiss and a smile.

Comments: 6

Comments

1. Kego - Wed Apr 11, 2007 @ 02:33PM

The good old days, back in Europe, are hard to beat. Back then a man was a man and a woman was a woman… things were simple.

Now days, especially here in America, this is what would happen to Grandpa:

Grandpa would drink his wine each day, and then go work out in the fields and milk his cows. Then one day he gets a phone call. Looks like mad cow disease has been found in some of the beef he produces. His name gets plastered all over the news, and his cattle business starts to bottom out. To make matters worse, the neighbor lady tells reporters they see him drinking while working on the farm. Stories start popping up that due to his drinking, he was negligent in the handling of his cattle which lead to them getting mad cow disease.

Grandpa gets slapped with 20 lawsuits and goes bankrupt trying to defend himself. To make matters worse, having to drive into town everyday to go to court leads to three DWIs even though Grandpa doesn’t feel drunk. They throw him into prison because “three strikes” = your out. Grandpa becomes a felon.

Grandpa loses the farm, his house, his family…everything. When he gets out of prison, he has nowhere to go so he lives on the streets – homeless. He does manage to scrap together enough money each day through begging to get his one liter of wine (though it is only Mad Dog 20/20). Eventually depression gets the best of him and he starts drinking a gallon each day. Now he knows he is an alcoholic. So he jumps off a bridge. Grandpa only lives to the rip old age of 42.

2. Johnny Wraith - Sat Apr 14, 2007 @ 08:12AM

Kego,

Thanks for this comment. It made me laugh, it was profound, and it was well said. You speak of the nostalgia of the "good old days" with what seems to me a mixture of parody and sincerity.

You point out the fact that society has really become rigid with individuals, or shall I say individuality? What once gave men like grandpa charisma and personality now leads him down the path of incarceration and suicide. We must be like everyone else. Sober, serious, good working citizens that die out their days in the eternal, boring rounds. Or we will go mad. But madness, especially in today's world of George Bush Politics and witch- hunts around every corner, is, I believe, the artist's only remedy.

3. Tanya D - Wed Apr 18, 2007 @ 02:55PM

This could possibly be the best example of venting that I've ever read... and I'm an avid internet blogger (speaking of, what happened to you on that "other" site?)...

Anyway, a subtle theme is becoming a bit more obvious... has someone been nagging you about your Yellow Tail habit, Johnny? :-)

4. Johnny Wraith - Tue Apr 24, 2007 @ 05:50AM

The good news is the nagging has stopped!
It is, however, a combination of restriction and understanding.
Or, I am finally getting old.

5. Anonymous - Tue Mar 11, 2008 @ 02:30PM

sd

6. Greg Wakefield - Fri Mar 21, 2008 @ 09:50PM

The body can tolerate all kinds of poisons. Does the poison kill us? Make us stronger? Perhaps with alcohol we care less about things, worry less, hurt less. Can less worry be bad?
Can you still recognize your love ones when you drink?
Do you hurt them?
Do you forget to do things?
Do you regret drinking?
If not, why not just drink?

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