What I’ve called “my” brewery is closing after 14 years, nearly 13 of those which I participated in. I went from patron at Boone Valley Brewing to friend to help to worker to outsider and back around to patron and hopefully friends… I’ve run the full race.
Under that roof, I found something I truly enjoy: trying new experiences. Whether that’s beer, spirits, music, or social experiences, that floor has opened up many new doors for me. Most everybody I choose to interact with in my new old hometown, I met behind that glass door. Some of them I knew before, and most of them are completely new to me. Most would be considered casual acquaintances, while an elite handful I would call friends or more. Along with that, I have had the opportunity to make relationships across the state and industry. It is a hoot to walk into a building three hours away and be instantly recognized as a member of the industry and an ally.As the weeks have wound down, I’ve seen a mixture of emotions. There are some who are full of sadness, wondering why their favorite place must close. There are some full of excitement, wondering what will come next. There are some just wanting conversation, wondering where we go next.To me, there is no place like the local brewery. You can’t have that quiet conversation with a family member you haven’t seen. You can’t seek counsel from a fringe friend after a hard week in a noisy bar. You can’t have the hard conversation with your brother in the basement while his family debates adoption. You can’t carry a new beverage into a bar because you’re excited to share it with the three people whose cars you recognize. You don’t order a side for the bartender because you know they’ve had a rough week and would love the extra thought. You don’t pick up new music sitting atop a normal barstool. One doesn’t find a social group over a conversation involving light beer. Whiskey and conversation do flow, I imagine, but sneaking sips while the brewmaster is away leads to an elevated bond. If they are around, well, that means you’ve gotta share an extra round or three…When the local brewery closes, what does that mean to me? It means I lose the only place I felt comfortable visiting (mostly) without judgment. It means I lose an easy place to socialize with some people I care about. It means a place that I felt some ownership in is gone. It means it’ll be more difficult to stay in touch within the community.I guess we’ll see how it all shakes out.Lucas MonsonProduct Consumption SpecialistBoone Valley Brewing
This article originally appeared on Ames Tribune: What happens when my small-town brewery closes | Guest Column
Reporting by Lucas Monson, Special to the Ames Tribune / Ames Tribune
USA TODAY Network via Reuters Connect
By Lucas Monson, Special to the Ames Tribune | USA TODAY Network
