My father and his friend Merl Moran were World War II combat veterans. My dad was a submariner and Merl was a paratrooper who dropped into Normandy and Holland. They later shared many hours making beer in our basement. I grew up with exploding bottles, rough language and laughter, mixed with the smells of boiling malt and yeast. Since they shared the horrific experience of combat in war, they also shared an obvious respect for each other. They were political opposites. My dad was a conservative, JFK was too liberal. Merl was a liberal, JFK didn’t go far enough; so …
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