As ‘bar flies’ go, our group is not your ordinary ‘flies’. Going out for a beer, or two, every five or six weeks is not what bonafide ‘flies’ do. But, when the time rolls around for us to have a night out and ‘howl at the moon’, there’s no limit to our enthusiasm, ‘flies’ or not. And Caverly’s Irish Pub, a corner bar in Rochester’s ‘Southwedge’, is our favorite.
The real ‘bar flies’ already had their elbows ‘dug’ in and ‘locked’ onto the bar when we arrived, guffawing the evening away with idle chatter, each beer bringing more guffaws and louder chatter. Not our ‘cup of tea’, we’re here for some sophisticated and sober conversation. Believe me!
The five of us walked our beers to the round table by the screened front door, a spot that might offer a rare breeze on a humid July evening, and allow us to greet the ‘bar dog’ when it ambled in, and it always did.
As is customary, our evening began with a toast to new and lasting friendships. Coincidentally, a new friend, another neighbor, joined us this evening, passing our simple standards of being retired and looking for idle conversation while enjoying a beer with friends.
Friendship was our theme tonight, as we quaffed beers and recalled what Bruce Springsteen coined, ‘the glory days’ of working, hanging out and growing up with others our age whom we called our best friends. And when ‘old men’ talk about those times, the eyes light up, the voices come alive, and the enthusiasm needle moves off the charts. Tonight was no exception.
As a kid laboring in Connecticut tobacco fields, or a farmboy building a speedboat in a cellar of his New York farmhouse, or a band of boys running the streets of a coal mining town in eastern Pennsylvania, our stories carried us back to a simpler time. The names weren’t recalled easily and the smiles belied the hardships of those days, but as it always does, our memory filter remembers those earlier times with buddies as the best of times. Tobacco still grows in Connecticut, the boat sank, was salvaged, then disappeared with time, and the boys of eastern Pennsylvania abandoned the hard life streets of coal towns for greener pastures.
The Caverly barmaid surprised us with a serving of blueberry scones while feigning regret that there wasn’t a bachelor among our good looking group. Nevertheless, we soaked up the flatter willingly and washed down the scones with the last of our beer, before strolling to the car, laughing that it took 18 ‘beer nights’ before someone hit on us. Is that a record of sorts?
Outside, some motorcyclists volunteered their bikes for a photo shot but we declined, politely, of course, and cautioned them about the barmaid. But who knows, maybe they’re interested. It’ll make a fine story one day, when they’re having their own ‘glory days’ conversation…
“There is only one thing better then making a new friend, And that’s keeping an old one” Elmer G Leterman
Steve
July 2018
stephen.bottcher@gmail.com
Love reading your “beer night sagas”, brother. I feel like I’m sitting right there at the table with you. True friends are like comfort food for the soul.😊
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Thanks, ‘big sis’. It’s a simple night out and the talk just flows. Believe it or not, we may even repeat ourselves! It’s a nice time for some ‘brotherhood’.
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Bonjour très cher ami.
How are you doing. Good to keep in touch with the stories. How’s your health, your wife. Any news with Mrs Daisy?
I wish I have been in the bar with you that night… Even if one beer makes me drunk.
Amicalement
Xa
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We would have enjoyed watching you get tipsy, my friend. And you have such a good French accent that we would enjoy, as well. All my best to you and Jean. My wife and Daisy are well, thank you.
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Thanks Steve. An honor to have been there.
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Thank you, Jim. Next time, we definitely have to talk about ‘limits’ and your calculus progress.
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What a lovely thing to read. I felt like I was sitting at the next table listening in. Scones and beer? Not sure how those mix but being flirted with can make anyone’s day.
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Well, you would have been sitting with my sister who said the same thing. And you probably would have laughed at 5 guys whose chests suddenly puffed out with big egos. If you’re interested, there are 17 other ‘Bar Chronicles’ with the same cast of characters. Just scroll down to find them.
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The scones were delicious enough to go with anything. Yes, maybe we were flirted with, now that you mention it. Made us feel young, again…😉
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Sounds just lovely. You should be compiling a book of shorts to be published.
Scones and beer hmmm how’d that work out? It seems a rather odd combination.
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Thanks, Linda. That would be a fun project. As for the scones and beer, well, it does seem odd but the scones were delicious, and, heck, it’s only beer. 😂
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I just loved reading this, Steve. Good friends, reminiscing about the good old times, and even a ‘hit’. You tell stories with such heart, always making me smile, and your words linger. Well, maybe it’s the feeling that lingers. Thank you!
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Thanks for the nice words, Jennie. Yes, we got a ‘hit’, and did we ever sit up straight and puff out our chests. It was funny to observe, And laugh about later. 😎
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Wish I had been a fly on the wall! 😀
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😂 very good!
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I would have bought a ticket to see the click with the motorcycles. Fun post all around. You always make me smile. Cheers!
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I think I. Oils sell tickets to these ‘bar nights’, at least 3 followers (of the thousands I have…😂), and that includes my sister, wanted to be there (to watch us old guys puff our chests). Hey, Elen, thanks for reading and your nice comment.
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CHEERS!!

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And that’s about how we look…after 1 beer! Thanks for reading and commenting.
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I thought that picture went well with your post.
Have a great week!!
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These pub nights just sound like too much fun!
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Mliae, we ‘old timers’ know how to have a good time!😂🍺 Thanks for the comment.
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