Live deep and suck all the marrow out of life.
~ Henry David Thoreau
I wasn’t in the Navy in the 1920s but I know those sailors worked hard. And played hard. After their daily duties, they sparred in boxing matches and wrestling bouts. They had a high old time at sea performing for each other while downing a few brews. Ergo ~ the Happy Hour.
Back on shore, brave citizens and friends gathered for illegal happy hours at speakeasies ~ a necessary evil, thanks to the failed experiment called Prohibition.
Late in the 1950’s, the Saturday Evening Post ran a feature article about military life. And the Happy Hour dropped its anchor into the American mainstream.
(We all know that tippling with pals and gals before dinner goes way back. Remember Shakespeare’s enthusiastic imbiber Falstaff?)
“Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner.”
Here in Florida, you can visit most any restaurant or bar between 4pm and 7pm for pleasantly-sating drinks and fearfully tasty small plates that will take the edge off that long day at the beach. A full pour of happiness at a giddy-making price.
Happy Hour is here to remind us that whatever came before or whatever might come afterward, Right Here and Right Now all is well ~ and well-shaken ~ with the world.
Singer and guitarist Ted Hawkins was a Happy Hour kind of guy. He made ends meet busking along the piers and storefronts of Venice Beach. Locals and tourists came to hear this southern jongleur who sat on an overturned milk-crate and sang original tunes in his signature raspy vocal style while strumming only major chords on his Martin. The soulful storyteller passed away from a stroke in 1995 at age 58. One of his last originals was an ode to this groove-restoring time of day.
FOOLS ON STOOLS? NOT FROM WHERE I SIT.
“Some people never find it
Some only pretend
But I just want to live
Happily ever after, now and then”
― Jimmy Buffett
- Happy hour noshing saves dollars but delivers deliciousness (denverpost.com)