Introducing

Alex Henry Foster (AHF): I guess my first experience with whisky also stands as the fondest memory I have from my late paternal grandfather. As a child, of all things. Jack, as he was called by his friends and The Boss by my father, had an immense office in the east part of Montreal. Jack was a very unique character and a professional golfer. He had been mayor of a now annexed part of Montreal, was a pioneer in the recycling world in Montreal, an advocate for fair trade ideas, and was involved in all sorts of independent political levels. He lost his fortune playing cards with influential mobsters but won it back by investing in housing development. He was a womanizer, a terrible father, and an even worse husband. But somehow, he was really fond of me, well, as such a person can be fond of someone else. So here I was, probably 5 or 6 years old, seated on his huge chair and drawing directly on his desk, which he liked me doing. If he hated and despised my father for not being aligned with his expectation of him as a man, they nonetheless always would share something that looked like a precious beverage, poured from a crystal bottle to what felt to me as awesomely heavy glasses. Jack would be The Boss towards my father. And while it was probably a humiliating process for my father, it was a special ceremony that I was the witness of. They would scream at each other, but once they had that special drink, peace would come as some sort of common silence treaty for as long as there was something to drink. And one Sunday afternoon, still around that age, Jack would ask the only question you shouldn’t ask a curious kid: “Alex, do you want to share this glass with your grandfather?” Of course, I wanted to. And of course, I did. It must have been a tiny sip, as my father who wasn’t with us in the room for an instant, rushed back furious telling The Boss how irresponsible he was for giving me alcohol. He replied: “Why do you think I like to have a drink with you every Sunday even if I can’t stand you most of the time? It’s because this is exactly what I used to do with you when you were a child.” It was the first time that I saw my father cry. That same day, I was introduced to Johnnie Walker Blue. And if it took me years before turning into a whisky devotee myself, it’s a souvenir that keeps resurfacing every time I have a drink. Would Jack have introduced me to the importance of playing a part in the global environmental fight, I might have become a bit more present in my generation’s “greatest war” against climatic changes instead of making all sorts of strange noises with whatever instrument I can put my hands on… Oh, well. At least, Johnnie Walker Blue ain’t a bad introduction sip or two!