|
 I still
retain many fond memories from a childhood that was somewhat tainted by
the cold war. That robust competition for world domination between
communist and capitalist could unsettle even the most secure suburban
upbringing.
In my version of “Leave
it to Beaver Land”, better known as Teaneck, New Jersey there were only
two reasons for seeking shelter below the first floor: the fear of
nuclear winter, or the fear of not keeping up with those that had
achieved a subterranean paradise replete with paneling, ping pong and a
mini-pub. Trusting that John Kennedy would always best his Soviet
nemesis, Nikita Khrushchev, my parents decided to forego stocking up on
a six month supply of Campbell’s Tomato Soup and chose instead to
dedicate the basement to recreational use.
My father was a trained
artist as well as a self-taught musician and craftsman. He brought all
of those talents to bear on the construction of the altar that would
become our home bar. It became a place of warm gatherings, merriment
and song.
As a child, I remember the excitement of
waiting for my dad to flip the switch that would illuminate his
handiwork. Light danced on multi-colored inlaid metal tiles that
adorned the top of the bar. The scene had all the drama of those
Christmas Eves long past, when my assigned yearly quest to locate that
elusive brown extension cord, that would bring power from wall to tree,
yielded success.
This publican owes much
to Raymond J. Poh. The culmination of his craft instilled in me my
great love of the tavern. Every time I answer the call of one of those
splendidly lit confines there is a sense of Christmas. Perhaps the mix
of neon, candles and designer incandescent bring on those feelings; but
more likely the potential for fellowship, kindness and generosity that
one finds in such places renews my hope for peace on earth and goodwill
toward men. All of us at American Public House Review wish you and
yours a joyous season of light!
Chris Poh , Publisher
| NEXT MONTH: Our
contributing editor, David McBride escapes the northern chill by going
on assignment in Florida. Featured musician and journalist, Matt
DeBlass does anything but escape the chill. His report requires wearing
a kilt at a pub in Pennsylvania, and I’ll be raising a glass at one of
America’s most haun ted
taverns. |
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