You might recognize the outline of this tattered sign as that of the Miller logo—the same one that has been stamped on the side of High Life bottles everywhere. This familiar badge stood tall above Fort Worth, and my childhood. I grew up down the street from the Miller Brewery, and the sign would greet me before the smell of wort let me know we were close to home. To that end, here are some interesting stories about Miller, and about growing up in Fort Worth:
Opened in 1969, the Fort Worth location was the first brewery to make Miller Lite. From the great folks of Fort Worth, you’re welcome, America.
The first beer I was ever served was a Miller Lite at the Lotus Chinese Restaurant. I was five or six years old, and when I came back to the table after loading up a plate at the buffet, my mom and I discovered that the waitress had mistaken my order of milk for something a bit more frosty.
Windell Middlebrooks, a Fort Worth native, was the actor who played the famed Miller High Life delivery guy who’d run around making sure everyone was living the High Life. I met him at a bar I worked at in college, and “fictional delivery guy” should be changed out for “actually very motivational speaker/person” on his IMDB. I, for one, live the High Life in his memory.
Recently this sign was damaged by a storm, so when I passed by the brewery to see men working on this monument of my childhood, I experienced a few emotions: concern, joy, anxiety. I don’t know if they’re taking it down or just giving it a facelift, but I hope it’s the latter, so that other people can live and grow under its watchful eye for years to come.
P.S. I wrote the above a while back, on a drive to Austin, not knowing that I’d soon leave my hometown for Seattle. All quirky anecdotes aside, this landmark represents a distinct memory of my community in Fort Worth, which I sorely miss as I settle into my new life. It also represents the community that has grown up around this beer, and that has given some of us life and livelihood. This past week we saw some of our own lose their lives to violence, and there aren’t words in my lexicon to express the pain that we all felt after the shooting in Milwaukee. To those we lost, I’ll certainly be raising a glass to you and yours. Be good, do good, hold onto those you love.
