van Goh Nightmare

What, we're out of absinthe again!Good Father, Bad Father

So, my wife and I got into absinthe shortly after we met each other, which was shortly before we discovered her to be pregnant, and just prior to our parents saying, “Get married for the kid’s sake.”

After the child was born my wife went on a post-spawn binge, facilitated by numerous absinthe shipments from Europe. Of the 38 bottles we consumed that year, only three were confiscated—in Chicago it should be noted, by customs agents who damn well better have appreciated our expensively educated tastes. By the time those agents stole our bottles, we’d decided on Pernod, La Fe Parisian, and La Blue Clandestine as standbys. When I review the old credit card statements I see that we blew our first daughter’s college fund on 70-percent content alcohol.

Sometimes I visualize what it must have been like in that customs office if those agents tore off the wax and popped those corks.

“Hey, let’s just try a drink from each,” one agent might have suggested to the other. “How bad could it really be?”

“Didn’t you watch Mulin Rouge?”

Van Gogh“Screw Mulin Rouge. That was a kid’s story.”

If they sampled the contraband, those two agents would have endured an alcohol and thujone-laced torrent, like a swarm of hornets jabbing stingers straight into their eyeballs.

And, revengefully, I hope that was the case.

One day I got online and ordered Absinth King Gold, which is supposed to harbor 100 milligrams of thujone, versus the standard 10 milligrams of thujone. It carries a healthy stab of $213.65 Euro. King Gold’s effect was awesome at first, but ended with me pitching dinner right over the fence into my kind neighbor’s yard (know when to quit, know when to quit). I thought King Gold had delivered its last punch, but then my daughter, Tate, noted the bottle as we were studying various Absinthe logo styles. King Gold carries a disturbing portrait of Vincent van Gogh.

Tate asked, “Dad, who’s that,” and I replied, “van Gogh, one of the greatest artists of all time, a sick man who made a statement through his art and drinking. One time he even cut off his ear to show his love and suffering toward a woman.” (That statement would be disputed by art historians and absinthe junkies who insist that van Goh’s friend, Paul Gaugin performed the act.)

That night soundly tucked in her bed, with parents just 10 yards away in their bed, Tate let out a scream and yelled for mom and dad. We raced to her side and said, “Tate, what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

She answered, “I had a bad dream.”

“What did you dream about,” I queried.

“I dreamed about van Gogh,” she said. “I saw his face floating above me, just like it looked on that absinthe bottle.”

Almost every night for the next year, when bedtime arrived, we’d tuck Tate under her covers, read a book, kiss her on the forehead, express our love for her, and then head downstairs for libation and a couple hours of sanity. And, on cue, just minutes after we’d leave her side, Tate would call out from above, “Mom, dad!”

Through the overhead vent we’d answer, “Yes, Tate, what is it?” and she’d say, “Is van Gogh in the house?”

ABSINTHBecky and I would bow our heads, exchange what-have-we-done looks and answer, “No Tate, van Goh isn’t in the house. He’s far, far away.” With that Tate would be fast asleep and our absinthes would be hitting full louche.

So, perhaps it isn’t best to create your daughter’s first nightmare by consuming some thujone saturated so-called devil’s drink. But then, it’s probably a less damaging nightmare than what a lot of other kids deal with. These days Tate struts around like a pint-sized art connoisseur saying things like, “Oh, those are van Gogh flowers” or “that sky looks just like van Goh’s Starry Night” or “I believe that’s a Gauguin.” So what if her parents went on an absinthe binge one year? That little girl, I can tell you this, is more confident than most and her mother and father have a self-deprecating, if not humorous, story to tell which, in the end, may be what it’s all about.

If you want to try Absinth King Gold, and not the watered-down, ghastly imitation absinthe's sold in the U. S., check out www.originalabsinthe.com