“Well, the first shot I got was in a dynamite truck
The driver kept me telling me his bad luck
As we swerved around the curves I began to shout
I said, hey-ey mister would you let me out?
I had my hopes up high, I never thought that I
Would ever wonder why I ever said good bye
I had my hopes up high
– Joe Ely, “I Had My Hopes Up High” (click to listen)
Another week of beer news and conjecture. Another week of high hopes and dashed hopes.
QUOTE OF THE WEEK
“Even if you have really incredible beer and an incredible space and an incredible community, it’s still very challenging to operate during this time,” she said.
— Massachusetts Brewers Guild executive director Katie Stinchon
From Why so many Mass. breweries are closing (and what you can do about it)
LEDE OF THE WEEK
One Christmas Eve in the late 19th century, the family on the Hovland farm in Hardanger, Norway, was sitting down for a festive dinner. The food was on the table, the candles were lit, and the big wooden mug was full of beer.
Then, suddenly, enormous hands appeared between the logs from which their house was built, tilting one side of the house into the air. In the gap between the logs, they could see giant eyes staring at them, glittering in the candlelight.