Samantha and I left for Boston before the sun rose the following day. We each knew that perhaps the weather would not be forgiving in some places and that the trip was long to start with. We would be returning to Boston first and then Andrew and I would return to Burlington.

I was quiet for most of the way. There was a few times when Samantha brought up our long discussion at the mall, but each time I tried to shift the discussion in another direction. I was in no mood to talk about a wedding, even though I had with some relative enthusiasm just two days before. I hoped and prayed that Samantha could not see thru my new found confusion.

Sensing that she knew somehow, I turned on the radio. I was able to get her to sing along with me, even though I was not in the mood. It worked for a while. As I looked out the window, the fog and gloomy skies seemed to be a reflection of my own inner mood.

Many hours later, we finally reached Boston. Samantha asked what was wrong, to which I simply stated that I was tired. While the bulk of the trip had been relaxing, my mood had now made a colossal shift that I was trying to hide. She accepted my answer with some skepticism, and we kissed and hugged. I watched her return to her dorm where she waved from the front steps before I drove away.

I thought on the drive over about telling Andrew. However, I decided at this point that I would have to figure this one out on my own. I felt a letter brewing up; as I felt I needed Dad's guidance. In the end, I had resigned to the fact that only I could make, and feel comfortable, with the final decision. It would take some soul-searching, but I had time left in Vermont to be alone with my thoughts.

Andrew and I made it into Burlington around midnight. We were both tired from the journey, and spoke only a few times to keep each other awake. While I wanted to tell someone what I was thinking, I reserved the first emotions for a letter to my father. I needed to get my thoughts down on paper. 

After dinner, we retreated home for the evening. Samantha and I watched television for a bit, and then it was time to retire.

It was only 10:00 PM when I crawled into bed, but I was still wide awake at 3:00 AM. "Did I really have a strong reservation about 'till death do us  part' ", I thought? The ceiling seemed to be staring back at me as I was it. but no answers came.

I managed to sleep from about 3:00 AM to 7:30 AM. Samantha and I had one more day to spend in Frostburg, and then it would be back to Boston and Burlington. The final day was spent mostly in relaxation. I took Samantha to Main Street Books and we each selected a novel to read. It had been quite some time since I had read for pleasure, and we each read for three hours that afternoon.

In the evening, we took a short stroll. The winter weather in Frostburg was quite similar to that of Massachusetts and Vermont. I was no stranger to harsh winters growing up. Despite the cold and wintery mix below our feet, we walked and talked for about thirty minutes. Returning home, it was time for a hot shower, some hot chocolate and a warm bed.

Samantha went to bed before I did that evening, and I stayed up to chat with Dad. We talked about nothing specific. Generally, he wanted to know what school was like, how I was getting along with my new friends, and my personal financial situation. I was still in the "black", and that is what mattered. My father once again offered help if I needed it.

As I gazed down into an empty glass of scotch, I wandered what was truly going on inside my head. I had never given a second thought to my commitment to Samantha prior to Dad's question. In no way was he wrong in asking; as it was out of general concern for my welfare. However, the question continued to be a point of contention and confusion in my mind. I would have to tackle this mountain, also; in Vermont.

We met my parents at the usual place in Frostburg, Guiseppe's Italian Restaurant. Samantha and I arrived a few minutes before our scheduled reservation and Mom and Dad were there at 6:00 PM on the dot. We were ushered to a quiet table in the front of the house near a fireplace, making the occasion just a touch more special.

Samantha and I decided earlier that we would share with my parents a little about our plans. We were officially beginning to make plans for our nuptial, and I knew that at the very least my mother would be thrilled. While it was just as important; if not more so, to share the ideas with Samantha's parents, it was my mother and father who were privy to our plans first. We would tell Samantha's parents when I dropped her off back in Boston.

My father and I ordered Chicken Parmigiana, my mother Eggplant Parmigiana, and Samantha had the vegetable lasagna. Dad had taken the luxury of ordering a nice Chianti which was served with the meal. Prior to, we each had a beer from Anchor Steam Brewing Company. The kitchen is usually busy, but they were able to get our food out in a timely fashion. This was something that the owner had perfected many years ago. He was good about getting fresh Italian on a plate in a timely manner.

Between dinner and dessert, the ladies excused themselves. This gave the opportunity for my father and I to talk for a few minutes. I can say that I got the normal questions. "Was I ready for marriage", and "Do you feel as though you can support your wife"? These were the easy ones. The last was the kicker. "Do you believe deep down that you are prepared to commit yourself to Samantha for the rest of your life?" I nodded in the affirmative; not showing the ounce of hesitation in my positive response. I knew that later, I would be pondering this question and giving it more reflection.

When my mother and Samantha returned, I got up and put them each in a chair. I kissed Samantha on the forehead after she pushed her way snug against the table. I gazed at her all through dessert. The coffee and Tiramisu were excellent. My mind however, was drifting to lands far away.

After another great day with Samantha's parents in New Jersey, we got a good nite's rest and awoke at 7:00 AM to leave for Frostburg.

We arrived a little before noon. Samantha ad only been to a few restaurants in town, but she had already visited the highlights. We were certainly going to eat there again; as the better spots are where the locals go.

Samantha had never been to a Bob Evans restaurant, so we decided to go there for lunch. They serve breakfast all day, and I was in the mood for the first-and probably most important-meal of the day. I ordered a "Country Sampler" plate, complete with eggs, toast, bacon, home fries and a piece of ham. If that was not enough, it also came with three pancakes. Samantha instead opted for lunch and had a soup and salad combo. She was a fan of the Caesar Salad and had one with her Italian Wedding soup.

After lunch, we went to our mall. It was a pitiful example in comparison to what was in Boston, or Burlington, or nearly any place in America that one might go, but it allowed us time to get some exercise and just talk about our future. For some reason, our conversation drifted toward weddings.

Despite the fact that we were engaged, we had never really talked about what we would like to have as preferences in our wedding. We had sadly not even picked a date. Undoubtedly, it would have to be after my mission ended; hopefully resulting in the outcome of obtaining the designation as Master Sommelier.

As we walked and talked, we spouted off a million ideas that all seemed like good ones. We were certainly not the first couple to do this, and would not be he last. Time flew by, and we had plans to meet my parents for dinner at 6:00 PM. While the mall was a non-event, and no shopping was done, it was certainly a profitable excursion; and would become a memorable one.  

The time spent with Samantha's parents was time well spent. I slept in until nearly 10:00 AM the following morning. This was certainly a change from my normal routine, as I had been getting up at 5:00 AM to workout with Andrew. On this vacation, I intended to relax and enjoy myself.

I was asked to jump in the shower and get ready to leave rather quickly, as Samantha's mother had booked a reservation at a local restaurant for brunch. I had become accustomed to eating French toast topped with fruit and whipped cream, and I did not deviate that morning. Along with some bacon, sausage and eggs, I was ready to tackle the rest of the day.

We returned to the house and for some reason I was still tired. I laid down to take a nap, and Samantha joined me. We slept from 2:00 - 5:00 PM, and awoke to the scent of a homemade meal. Ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce and rolls from the oven. I could not have been happier.

My thoughts drifted to Oscar for a minute. He did not have the money to travel home to Charleston during the eight-day break, and part of me felt sorrow. He had been cooking for us each nite for seven weeks. And while we all pitched in for groceries, I wished at that moment that I could have paid for a plane ticket for Oscar to go home. Thankfully, he would have the company of Billy and Jeff in Burlington, which allayed my concern somewhat.

Everything that Samantha's mother cooked that evening was phenomenal. I had been used to the spicy flavours of the Deep South, and this hallmark, American holiday meal was as appealing as anything had ever been. My taste buds danced with delight.

That evening, after everyone had been in bed for some time, Samantha tip-toed over to my room. As she laid her head on my shoulder, I felt the rush of the emotion of our physical closeness clamor up and down my body. It had been some time since I had held her close, and I needed to feel her warmth and affection. She stayed with me until the early morning; crawling back into her bed at 5:00 AM. We each arose around 7:00 AM, and spent another day at her home. Tomorrow morning, we were leaving for Frostburg.

Friday would be lost as it was a day spent on the road. A touch over three hours to Boston with Andrew, almost six to New Jersey to Samantha's parents, and then the final leg a few days later to see my parents was just over four hours.

Andrew was fairly quiet the entire way from Burlington to Boston. My best guess is that we were both decompressing from the seven grueling weeks of classroom and evening extracurricular activities. Surely our livers would additionally thank us if we took a few days off from tasting. I turned on the radio at one point and Andrew asked me to turn it off after about twenty minutes. It seemed that he really needed peace and quiet.

When I dropped him off, he thanked me and handed me a fifty-dollar bill. I told him I didn't need the money, but he insisted. As I pulled away he waved, and I saw it faintly in the rear-view mirror.

Samantha was waiting on the steps outside her dormitory room when I arrived. She was more than ready to get out of Boston for a few days. She was also excited to see her parents, and she shared that she was excited to see mine; which made me smile.

As we drove to New Jersey, we sang along with the radio. Neither of us could carry a tune, but it mattered not. And when we were not singing, Samantha was speed-talking. It seemed like she was speaking at a pace that rivaled the miles-per-hour that I was driving. Despite the fact that we talked a few times a week, there was much that I had missed.

The six hours of "windshield time" that we spent together seemed to fly by. It felt like we made it to New Jersey in no time. When we walked in the front door, we were greeted with hugs and kisses. Even I received a "half-hug" in conjunction with the handshake that her father gave me. We decided we would stay for three days, and then head to Maryland for the final four. What I needed more than anything, was a good nite's rest.

The minute I finished my letter to Samantha, I felt a sense of peace rush over me. In two weeks I would be going home. It had been quite a while since I had seen Samantha and my father and mother. I was excited to go home.

I was getting more excited each day about my time in Vermont and my chosen career path. It makes a difference to know that you are doing what you are uniquely designed to be doing, and this was a feeling I had yet to feel in my life. Like a great love, it is and was intoxicating!

My relationships were strengthening. The five of us became inseparable. Perhaps this was because we saw each other every day and had tastings every nite; but despite the simple factor of time spent together, we genuinely enjoyed each others company. Somehow the intricacies of our personalities seemed to mesh at a specific point that allowed us in concert to seem like one. The five of us had become a singular force in some ways. And with the same goal in mind, we all believed we were unstoppable.

Soon after our study of France and French wine was over. It was time for a break, and we all felt spent by the time the clock ticked three on the last day of class. While it was far from all-encompassing, we had learned far more than your average wine connoisseur will learn in a lifetime. When we returned, we would be moving on to Italy, a country I felt more confident with.

I was excited to learn about Italy as it would provide a foundation and a basis to use for the trip I had planned for Samantha and I. Surely, I would find the "diamonds in the rough" from our studies. Kevin would be able to shed some lite on the subject; after all, the additional letters after his name were good for something, weren't they?

It was a Thursday afternoon when we finished our last class. As I packed the car, I again felt a deep calm rush over me. I was preparing for a trip home; a trip I was sure that I needed for my physical and emotional health, and my sanity.

Samantha,

Things are going well here at the Vermont Wine School. I have met four great guys that I believe will become lifelong friends. Andrew from Boston, Billy from D.C., Jeff from Colorado and Oscar from South Carolina. 

Andrew has a rough exterior but has opened up and now I am starting to see the true side of his person and personality. Billy grew up well, but is humble; a trait I can appreciate. Jeff has had me in stitches for the past few weeks with his quick-wit and he has become my partner on the slopes for our routine weekend exercise. Oscar is the resident cook, and is keeping us full with dishes from the Deep South.

I have enjoyed getting to know each one of them and it seems like a learn something new about them and about myself each and every day. As I am looking back; albeit short in nature, my time spent in Vermont has allowed me to grow in many ways. Personally, and now professionally; I have set myself on a path that I hope leads to success.

I am missing you and also Dad and Mom. Having said that, it will be a few weeks before I have a break in my class schedule, but I intend to come home. I may give Andrew a ride to Boston and I was hoping that you would go with me to Frostburg to see my parents. I was going to surprise you and whisk you away, but since we will be traveling to Maryland for a few days, I  thought I should give you time to plan.

Samantha, I am missing you greatly! However, as I have said before, I believe in what I am doing and believe that I am destined to be doing it at this very moment. 

With Love,


Me

One might have put Jeff in the category of "ski bum", but ironically he was the most proper of the group. He was familiar with the slopes, but was additionally familiar with all the finer things in life.

He definitely had a "Colorado flair" about him, usually sporting a long-sleeved shirt with a vest as an additional layer.He wore some of the usual suspects from the ski community; North Face, Patagonia, Columbia and the like. He appreciated a Coors Light; being from the Rocky Mountains, but wine was his passion.

Jeff became our "go-to" guy with respect to unknown territories. He was familiar with wines from up-and-coming areas of the United States. New Mexico, Texas, Arizona and New York for example. He was quite the aficionado when it came to the Finger Lakes Region and even further into Canada. Ditto with New Mexico and Arizona. If there was an undiscovered wine region in the continental United States, Jeff knew about it.

His knowledge could not be overlooked, as he would prove to be a formidable asset during our tasting time each nite. Jeff was a fan of steak and Southwestern-style cooking, and on occasion put in his requests to Oscar, our resident chef.

Jeff and I skied on the weekends to clear our heads and he also enjoyed hiking. The landscape in Vermont was certainly different from Boulder, and Jeff planned to take advantage of it. One of our favourite things to do after a long day on the slopes or a long session of tasting was to enjoy a cigar. While not the best for our palates, Jeff and I reasoned that a Cohiba here and there would not ruin our ability to taste.  

Oscar was a bit of a wild-card. Not wild in the sense that he was always a shoe-in to throw you off-guard with his speech or behaviour, he was just different. He was Southern born and bred, and when I say southern, he was the epitome of the deep south. Born and raised in Charleston, he was our resident chef during our late nites of drunken candor.

Charleston and other cities in the deep south are known for their seafood, gumbo, corn bread and biscuits, gravy, and their desserts. Oscar was more than adept at cooking them all and he did so with pride and joy.

Oscar's affiliation with wine was at the outset mostly proficient with dry to semi-sweet whites. He appreciated the Chardonnays, Rieslings and Sauvignon Blancs. What stood out in the crowd of these was his knowledge of German Rieslings. He had spent two full semesters of college in Germany, and had tasted some of their finest offerings while visiting Germany and the neighboring countries.

He had spent most of his time in Cologne, but also traveled north to Hamburg; northeast to Berlin and directly south to Munich. In addition, he had been to Prague, Paris and Milan. While he spent only two weeks in Paris over his summer break, he did have the chance to "meet" a few wines while visiting, which made him not too unfamiliar with France and French wine.

Oscar was the quiet one in the bunch, but you could always tell he was thinking. I could appreciate his ability to be calculating; always learning and desiring to learn new things. He would provide his opinion when asked, but for the most part learned from doing and experiencing, and spoke little. However, when he spoke, it was worth listening.

Billy was without doubt a "city boy." Raised just a few blocks from Pennsylvania Avenue, he grew up without wanting for anything. His father a lobbyist, and his mother an attorney; they were certainly among the elite and were devoted socialites in the D.C. scene. While Billy grew up not wanting for anything, he was humble; a quality which I admired.

He was the shortest of the bunch, but would have survived the Holocaust as he had bright blonde hair and gleaming blue eyes. He dressed in a "preppy" sort of way with a bit of flair, but his outward appearance was never overstated.

Billy had a refined palate; and at the outset, perhaps would have been my pick from our cohort to make it through the grueling process that the court presents to candidates. He had been to some of the finest restaurants in the country, as they were in his backyard. Jose Andres comes to mind, and when I asked Billy stated that he had been to all of his "fine establishments."

Billy was no slouch when it came to wine. He was a fan of the Napa Valley and would become our teacher with respect to California. His father had been collecting Napa Cabernets for the past thirty years and had some of the most famous and sought after wines in all the world in his personal cellar. With a simple phone call, Billy would surely be able to make the request of a few heavy-hitters from Napa to be sent our way.

I appreciated his humour as well. He had a quick-wit about him, and one could nary get a joke past him. My guess is that he would had scored in the top ten percent on his SAT's, and at a young age been identified as someone with a far better than average intelligence quotient.

Billy became the partner in this process that I would lean on and cling most to. His palate, enthusiasm, intelligence and quick-wit made him a person that was hard not to respect or be fond of.

Andrew from Boston was an interesting chap. He had grown up in a rougher part of Boston, and had a rough exterior that he carried around with him. He attended Boston College and had worked at an upscale restaurant where he developed his personal taste for wine and the industry. He was taller than the rest of us at 6'4" and could just have easily landed in Manhattan and passed for a Calvin Klein model. Despite his stature and good looks, he was kind and humble.

He talked me into beginning to work out with him at a local gym each morning, and I hoped that the thirty-nine dollar per month fee would be worth the cost. In time, I guess I would be able to tell. Having committed to a new venture in the area of personal health, I was getting up at the crack of dawn each day to begin my day with Andrew.

We sometimes went for breakfast before class started at the Skinny Pancake. While new to Andrew, I was able to reconnect with the place myself; having spent some time in Burlington previously just a few months ago. He personally enjoyed the pancakes and I preferred the fruit and whipped cream-topped French Toast. We each were carnivores and always had sausage or bacon; along with coffee and juice.

Classes began each day promptly at 9:00 AM. We were three weeks into our study of France and French wine and it seemed like the pace was accelerating at an alarming rate. I quickly realized that one would never know all there is to know about French wine, which eased my mind a bit. Having had that "aha!" moment made me relax some and allowed me to focus on learning as much as I possibly could, but at the same time allowed me the ability to free myself from the things that went in; and then promptly out, of my head.

We had breaks throughout the day and at times the five of us would go to lunch. I had been selected to be the dining "commander", as I was the only one of the five who had spent any time in Vermont. Each day was different, and each nite the same; as we indulged ourselves without abandon into French wine.

There were four in my class; as I mentioned, that would attempt to become sommeliers.

Andrew from Boston; ironically. Billy from D.C. Oscar from Charleston, South Carolina, and Jeff from Boulder, Colorado. Each of them had come to Vermont to expand their horizons in the world of wine with our famous instructor, Kevin Cleary.

In addition to his expansive education in wine and spirits, Kevin and his wife owned a restaurant and also a wine bar and shop. He had a long history of business and industry knowledge and somehow picked Burlington as a place to launch his school. Perhaps he was a skier like me...I wondered.

In addition to classes each day, the five of us would taste five to ten wines each nite. Since we were focusing on French wine, it was best to stick to French wine in our tasting. We needed to learn about geography, terroir, tasting, and many other ancillary subjects.

Kevin was an amazing instructor and had a few other excellent members on his staff. One could tell that he was serious about putting Vermont Wine School and Burlington, Vermont on the map. At the time that I attended the school, it had been open for five years and had produced seven sommeliers. I was going to be the eighth, and I had hoped to drag one of my buddies with me.

Samantha and Dad were excited that I had a few others around me to give me a collective focus to my goal. With five of us having the same goal, certainly we would be able to educate and encourage each other.

Samantha and I talked more and more often, as I was filling her head with the knowledge that I personally gained each day. My excitement could be heard thru the phone, she said.

I was well on my way to becoming America's next sommelier!

Samantha and I continued to plan our trip to Tuscany and I began to bounce more ideas off Dad as he had done some international traveling.

I called Samantha that Wednesday after my first class on Tuesday, the day before.

While "Day 1" was introductory in nature, I could tell that the pace would be fast and furious. I had better be ready, and I was. The pace had to go quickly as there is just so much about French wine to cover; and we would be attempting to learn the "lion's share" of it in just seven weeks. French wine was not only a subject, it was a language. The French have been known to have an air of superiority about them; and in the wine business, it is certainly no different.

Class was intense. After "Week 1", I felt as if I had the basics covered. We studied some basic history, started on the major wine regions, and began tasting and studying some of the major players.

It was important to me to also meet some of the "major players" in this new endeavor toward becoming a sommelier. In my class of sixteen, there were five others who desired to take the challenge and attempt the great feat toward becoming sommelier. They would become my cohort, and my friends.

Additionally, we each decided we would try to connect with one other person who was striving to become a sommelier, and the ten of us would attempt to get together once a month. It was my idea that I personally introduced to the group, as I felt this would give us all a better chance.

In truth; out of ten, perhaps one to a maximum of three of us would pass the Master's exam...and one of them was going to be me.

Arriving in Burlington without a hitch, I was ready to embark on the next part of my journey.

Since I had spent time in Burlington, I knew exactly where to go back to. I knew I would have a place to stay and also I knew the town fairly well at this point. I would simply have to get adjusted to a new school, and I was ready to swallow the information at an unprecedented rate. I needed and wanted the knowledge.

I got into Burlington on a Friday and my class on French wine started the following Tuesday. In preparation, I went to the local library and Barnes & Noble to find every book I could get my hands on on French wine. I knew this would give me a head start.

I was excited to meet my classmates. I knew that some of us with have the same end-goal.

Since I had time, I was calling and talking with Samantha each nite. Samantha to this point had been such a good sport, that I knew I had to do something special. I could not let her even pay one dime for the trip to Tuscany. She had even been there when I deviated course from our relationship for just one nite. She had never left my side.

Additionally I was talking to Dad each nite. He, too, was excited that I had found the wine school and agreed it would be a good "next step". He had been telling me all along that this journey would be just that; a journey and a process. Undoubtedly, he was right, and it had been.

As I found my way back to the place I had stayed before, I laid my head on the pillow that nite and dreamed of Tuscany. In a a few months, we would be there.

While it was perhaps not the right thing to do, I left for Burlington the next day.

Vermont Wine School was where I would spend the remainder of my time in Vermont. Interestingly enough; and in my favor, they had a class schedule that started fresh every two weeks. I also knew that I would potentially, and most likely, meet some other people who may even be attempting to become sommeliers.

Each class consisted of five to seven weeks of instruction. They had topics that focused specifically on countries to one in particular that focused entirely on France...a tough nut to crack in the wine world. I decided that I would soak up every bit of knowledge that I could muster. It may have been like "drinking from a fire hose", but I felt sure this would help me toward my end goal.

Focusing on the country of France would be of great importance. Perhaps I would learn enough to help me get thru the advanced exam and further study of the country would certainly be required in order to master France. Either way, I knew one thing for sure...my job would always be dynamic. The wine world has changed so much in a century, and even in the past twenty-five years, as was explained in my first class on the first day surrounding French wine.

France is considered "Old World" wine, but even in the "Old World"; the advent of technology and viticulture techniques and practices and the like have come so far that many of the veterans of the business have had to change their ways and philosophies around making wine. What worked in the past and was simply repeated year after year was no more.

The French now needed to evolve as much as the rest of the wine world, and I was about to learn how.

Just knowing who these people were after a quick search online would not be enough. I knew I needed to develop a group of people who would be able to meet regularly and taste wine.

I was working hard and earning good wages at the Balsams, but something told me it may be time to leave Vermont. It was January; and while winter would last three more months, I wondered if it was wise to consider spending my time here. I figured Dad would have some good advice.

Before writing Dad, I was working things out in my own mind. While I was earning a good living and living rent free at the Balsams, I knew I was missing out on opportunities to learn about the wine business. Simply serving it to high-end clientele was not enough to satisfy the burning desire in my heart; which was that I would pass the exams the first time.

Since Vermont was my state of choice for my pilgrimage, I began to search there. One quick search and click of the mouse and there it was! The Vermont Wine School!

I immediately put in my notice at the Balsams the following day and explained to them fully why I needed to be in Burlington...immediately. My boss was frustrated, but understood. I had explained to him my goals before starting, and this would be a natural extension of this goal. I sent for some information by mail to be sent to the resort, and I would call the next day on my lunch break.

When I talked to Samantha that evening, I told her about my exciting success in finding Vermont Wine School in Burlington. While I had been there once before, I was excited to return. Each time I realized that my new renewed focus was driving my career rather than just assumptions, I felt blessed. Both Dad and Mom; and Samantha, could see where I was headed and they were excited as well.

There was no looking back!

As I wrote in my journal each nite, I could feel the fire in my gut burning as I knew wholeheartedly that this is what I was supposed to do with my life.

I began to do more and more research on the Tuscany region. This was undoubtedly going to be the trip of a lifetime; and I was taking Samantha with me. She enjoyed wine almost as much as I did, but I had "up-ed the ante" by making my choice in wine a career.

Along with my research was the wine. I began tasting five to six nights a week. I wrote everything down in my journal. The nose or bouquet of the wine, the colour when held to a bright light, the taste, the structure and the finish. I was easily journaling a full page for each wine, but it would take this type of detail to pass the advanced and master's exams. I made it a goal to pass both exams on the first try; something few that attempt this feat do. After all, there are less than two hundred Master Sommeliers in the world; so I was applying to an elite group at best.

I would need to find a few friend who were also studying for either the advanced or master's exams. It would be easier to taste with other people, and the camaraderie that we would have as we strive for the same goal would be motivating.

Samantha agreed that this was a conquest I could not do alone. I began searching for other people who might be attempting the same. After doing some research online and making a few phone calls, I had found a few people scattered throughout the New York and New Jersey area, and a couple in Florida who were already working at Disney and were enrolled in their study program.

I would have to find a way to get connected to these people, and Samantha agreed.

I looked into options for wine based tours, but I wanted to chart my own path.

I figured that Samantha and I could devise an appropriate itinerary and it would be up to me to call and make advance reservations for those smaller wineries and the most exclusive ones that would require advance notice.

There was one wine tour that did interest me, and that was the Food & Wine vacation tour. Sponsored by the magazine, this tour would certainly be designed to give me a taste of the best of both worlds; that being food and wine. I decided that we would do both. We would spend six days with food and wine vacations and then do another eight on our own.

I definitely wanted to visit Florence and Rome in my travels. Of the regions, Montepulciano, Montalcino and San Gimignano and Castellina would be at the top of the list. I would begin wine tasting the region while working at the Balsams with my spare cash, and then do research in the evenings to select the specific wineries that I wanted to target.

When I mentioned the Food & Wine tour to Samantha, she was ecstatic. We would both have to do some saving, but I agreed to fund most of the trip for the both of us. Samantha would come up with thirty-five percent and I the other sixty-five. It seemed fair enough, since I was currently working and she a full-time student. As we talked each Wednesday I would tell her about the wines that I was drinking. Additionally, I had started a wine blog to not only keep a record, but I thought it might someday be useful for a book on wine at some point in the future.

I was going to make this a career, and I was going to do it the right way!

When I returned from Canada, I went to work at the Balsams.

Being a resort, I was really making good money. Between those who were coming in from the cold to enjoy the spa, or just those who were there for the hotel and its amenities, I was seeing good tips on a regular basis.

Having decided to become a sommelier, I really dove into wine. I would use ten percent of my paycheck to order wine and have it shipped to my residence for late night pilgrimages to my makeshift cellar. It wasn't much, but it was something I was pouring (no pun intended) into my heart and soul each and every day.

There was France, Germany, Australia, Napa, Virginia, New York and smaller countries like Portugal that I dived into with abandon. I would have to have a broad scope of knowledge if I wanted to pass the advanced exam at Disney. Disney itself had produced many a sommelier, and I knew I could get training and experience next winter that would fully prepare me for the advanced and master's exams.

Knowing exactly how much time I had left in Vermont, I began making plans for Samantha and I for the summer. She was planning to take some summer classes, but would have a break in mid-July to go on a vacation. It was the Tuscany region of Italy that I became enamored with, so I proposed a trip for Samantha and I to the region. We would travel around Italy and taste wine. Perhaps not the most romantic vacation; us being the lushes that we were, but I needed the knowledge and the practice with tasting.

When Samantha and I talked that Wednesday nite, we began making plans.

Samantha,

I wanted to write you to explain the revelation that came to me while hiking in Canada. I have decided to definitely pursue becoming a sommelier.

I feel such a relief now that I have some direction. As I explained to Dad, I have an outline for my plan. I will finish my exploration of Vermont and what it has to offer. I intend to spend the summer with you and hope that we can make some plans together and make some lasting memories.

In the fall it is off to Chateau Montelena to work the harvest season. Finally, I will travel to Disney, work there and prepare for the advanced exam.

I am excited to see the rest of Vermont thru the lens of someone that has direction. I know that with my vision, goals and dreams in front of me, I can take a valiant stab at becoming one of less that two hundred sommeliers in the world. It is an elite group for sure.

I pray that you are well in Boston. Your studies, I feel sure, are coming along. I will call later in the week to check in.

Best,

Me

Dad,

While hiking thru Canada I came to a realization. It was like a light bulb that flipped on. I am going to be a sommelier!

I have passed the entrance exam and with my time in food and wine service, I qualify to take the advanced exam. I will travel to Disney next winter and plan to get a job and take the advanced exam at Disney.

Having come to this realization, I know why I had to go to Vermont. I finally have some clarity in my thought and on my life. Where I want to go, how to get there and the steps to take.

My calendar for the next little bit is full. I will work in Beecher Falls at the resort for the next little bit, and there may be one more place in Vermont that I need to explore. At this point, that is to be determined. I will spend the summer with Samantha. After that, it is off to California and Chateau Montelena to work the harvest season on that amazing property. I could not be more excited for that opportunity and I feel it will serve me well on my resume and for my growth and development in my chosen industry. Finally, I will spend the winter in Disney and take the advanced sommelier exam in the spring.

Hopefully this letter finds you well. I pray that you and Mom are doing more and more things each day, and are enjoying the fruits of your labour.

Best,

Your Son

My trip to Canada would prove to be fruitful.

As I was hiking, I came to the realization amongst nature of what I really wanted to do. I was going to be a sommelier.

I was already a entry-level one sommelier. I had enough time in beer and wine service to sit for the advanced exam, so this would be the next step.

I decided to go to Disney to take the exam, and would go after harvest in the fall at Chateau Montelena to gear up for the exam.

I spent the next few days in the woods hiking thru Canada. My heart and soul were like the rushing falls of Niagara. I felt a soothing calm about the decision that I made. This time, my first call was to my father and mother. Then Samantha. It had taken me nearly three months in Vermont to make my path clear, but there was work to be done.

I returned to Beecher Falls and started working. I had a few months left in Vermont, the summer planned with Samantha, the fall in California and then off to Disney. It was exciting to know that I had a plan in place. My time had not been wasted frolicking around Vermont.

I had to write Dad and Samantha...

For the next two weeks, I made myself familiar with Beecher Falls.

I began writing letters to my father and mother and; of course, Samantha. I seemed to have "struck a cord" with the locals. Everyone was friendly, nice, willing to give you the shirt off their back, and just genuinely interested in helping if they could lend a hand.

I even met the Mayor and local politicians on the town council. Beecher Falls may have been small, but the people there were a tight-knit group. The Coors brewing company at one time had a small brewing operation in Beecher Falls, but it was now gone. Since I was so close to New Hampshire, I found a local pub to frequent.

The Rainbow Grille and Tavern became a place that I would visit for lunch and dinner and I also found respite in the Outback Pub. The locals were friendly, and typically I spent less than twenty bucks for a nite out. Friendly enough that if the bar was not to full, a round of drinks would be purchased by one of the locals.

I decided on the Friday before I would start work at the Balsams to go over into Canada. I had been smart enough to get my passport before beginning my journey, knowing that I would be so close to the Canadian border.

Friday morning I drove over into Canada and saw Niagara Falls. I did the short tour and went under the falls even though the weather was nearly unbearable.Icicles hung from the falls in gargantuan proportions. It was beautiful, but I was thankful to have my North Face jacket and a toboggan on.

I decided I would spend a few days in Canada. It would be a world away from Beecher Falls, but I knew I would find something to complete my journey into the unknown on these two days.

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Now when I say that Beecher Falls is a small town, I mean it is a SMALL TOWN. Smaller than Frostburg even when the college is not in session, Beecher Falls has a population of less than two-hundred fifty.

I began to wonder why this place on the map is where I would land next...

I decided nonetheless to make the most of it. Undoubtedly, this place had something to offer even if it was just for a day, a week, or a month. I had wanted a respite, and I felt sure I would get it.

To my surprise, I found a "diamond in the rough." I would go to work at The Balsams, a Grand Resort and Hotel in Beecher Falls, Vermont. At the very moment that I arrived, they were doing some renovations and were in need of a food and beverage director. Since I had a background in food science, brewing, distilling and the like, I was a "shoe-in." They hired me on the spot.

I would begin in two weeks. Since I had some time on my hands, I thought I would take the two weeks to explore the town and possibly the neighboring states and Canada. Surely there would be little diners to visit, places to hike and bike, a neighboring ski resort and other places of interest.

If it was out there, I would find it. It was time to lay out a plan of relaxation and rejuvenation for the next two weeks.

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I returned to Randolph and turned in my two-week notice. It was time to move on!

Samantha agreed that I had done what I came to do in Randolph. We were stronger than ever and I could see from her too, that she believed it was time for me to open a new chapter in Vermont. The brewery would be sad to see me go and I promised to keep in touch with a few students at Vermont Tech, but we all know how that goes.

On Wednesday nite, Samantha and I poured over the map of Vermont. At this particular time, I was looking for an oasis. Not necessarily somewhere where I had to be productive, but rather somewhere where I could commune with nature. I needed a respite; a place to collect my thoughts. I decided on Beecher Falls,Vermont. Located in the clear northeast corner of Vermont, this small town would be my hideaway for the next undisclosed period of time.

I got in the Jetta on Saturday morning and began driving. It was only a little over a two-hour drive; well, maybe closer to three with pit stops, but I made it into town around noon. Named after a manufacturing company in the 1880's that took advantage of the falls for for the mill, I knew immediately that this place had history. The question was, "What was history going to teach me here in Beecher Falls?"

I was also located just south of the Canadian Border. While my "wrestling match" was with myself and Vermont, I felt sure that there was something across the border that deserved my attention as well. I had made good money at the brewery to add to my savings, so I decided to splurge my first day in Essex County. I booked a two-nite stay at The Essex. Here I would have all the amenities I needed for a few days to relax and clear my head.

By 3:00 I had booked a massage and dinner would be at 7:00. Sunday morning I would sleep in, and in the afternoon I would make my plans for my respite in Beecher Falls.

Samantha and I awoke before sunrise on Sunday. The plan was to wake up slowly, go to church, eat lunch with my parents and then head north.

We had our first cup of Starbucks around 6:30 AM. Sunrise was at 7:22 AM and from my father's house, we watched the sun come up over the horizon together that morning. It was cold, and the steam rolled from our coffee cups and we could see each others breath as we made plans for the day.

It was cold in Frostburg; just fourteen degrees that morning. Not atypical for this time of year, but unpleasant at times.

We got ourselves showered and started to make breakfast for Mom and Dad. We had brought with us some Vermont Maple syrup that I knew they would enjoy. After some French toast we made plans all together for the day. Church would be first on the agenda and we all went to the largest, yet small, Catholic church in Frostburg; next to the Tombstone cafe.

After church, we decided to drive a few minutes down the road for some lunch at D'Atri's.  Their specialty was steak subs as they had perfected a seasoned lettuce that appealed to everyone in town.

At about 2:00 PM, we headed for Boston and Vermont. It was almost time to move on. I knew this in my heart!

My parents, Samantha and I went to dinner at Guiseppe's Italian Restaurant. A Frostburg favourite for years, it was a nice place to have a good Italian meal in style; for our little town at least. They did have a decent wine selection and the owner always kept a few special bottles in the library for his more common patrons.

We each decided to have the special that evening, which was an Eggplant Parmesan. Perfectly cooked, our mouths and eyes dazzled with every bite. After dinner, I took Samantha over to the local college, Frostburg State University. It is where I started attending, and quite possibly where I would finish; but I would have to err on the side of biology or chemistry as food science or any sort of agricultural science was not available. I could; however, take some independent study in plant biology thru a sister school.

While I intended to show her the entire campus, there was another item to cross off the list that evening. "The Three Irish Tenors" were in town, and that would be an evening of music not to miss, at only seven dollars per tickets. So after a short stroll around campus, I seated her in the auditorium and made her not look around at the posters on the way in to see the featured entertainment.

The music was amazing. These guys could put on a show. The "high" tenor hit notes that only most men could dream of, and only men like Pavarotti had ever achieved. We enjoyed every song...especially "Ave Maria."

On the way home, Samantha stated she was totally impressed. The culture, vibe and beauty of this little town had caught her heart. And while we would most likely never live here together, she additionally stated that tomorrow morning would come too soon...she longed to return to Frostburg.

On Saturday, we had breakfast at one of my favourite diners in town. The Princess Restaurant has been family-owned for decades. The decor screams 1950's when you enter with red-swivel bar seats and booths with what appear to be wooden radios that one can tune in to his or her favourite station. But it was the breakfast I had brought Samantha for; and while again simple, she was impressed.

We walked across the street to Main Street Books after getting a coffee; also across the street, at the Tombstone Cafe. The cafe is refurbished from a building that used to be where you went and purchased a tombstone in remembrance of a loved one. There was enough space in the building that you could have even watched them carve and inscribe it. I like it better as a cafe, and the building still sits next to a church and in front of the cemetery. How is that for history?

At the bookstore, we both looked for something interesting to read. We had both been tired of reading only formulas and scientific "mumbo-jumbo", so we opted for something lite and airy. When we had both found a book, it was time for a stroll down the street. Since it was now 1:00 PM; after a late 11:00 AM start to breakfast, I took her to meet Jimmy.

Jimmy was a lawyer and now is a bar owner. The Monkey Bar is a place you might never find if you did not know Jimmy. A bachelor since "Day 1", Jimmy always has a good story or two to tell. On this particular day, we sat and had a few laughs and stories over a beer, (or three), while watching the Fighting Irish of Notre Dame play Boston College. While Samantha looked Irish, we were definitely rooting on opposite sides with Jimmy; as we had to side with Boston College. Boston College managed to win 42-30 in an all-out "death match".

After a few drinks, we decided to go home for a nap before dinner. Samantha was a little bit tired from the walking and a little tipsy from the beer. A nap would be just what we needed before dinner.

The following week we would spend at my parents.

Things were still "hummin' along" at the brewery and Vermont Tech. It was perhaps time to move on, but I was learning more and more each day. I would give it a few weeks more; or perhaps a month and reevaluate. Samantha was happy with my employment at the brewery and I was getting paid well. At this point, not only had I paid back the line of credit, but I was in the black in my checking account.

Samantha was hard at work at college in Boston. She was excited to meet my parents and at the same time very nervous. I told her she needn't be, but you know how women are. They; at times, want things to be perfect and follow a straight line.

My work week went by quickly and I began my journey to home. Samantha and I drove together, so we had "windshield time" in order to build and strengthen our relationship. The drive was long and arduous in reality, but spending time with Samantha made it palatable. We stopped every hour or so to have a short rest and get some refreshments.

Upon arriving, my parents had a sign at the front door. A banner hung over the door which stated, "Welcome Home, Son and Samantha." It made me feel not only welcome, but loved. They fell in love with Samantha immediately. My father was able to tell from "Day 1 concerning our conversations that Samantha was a perfect fit for me. And during my time to "find myself", she had been a beacon of light; a lighthouse, and an anchor of sorts.

We had a family dinner that Friday night at home. Mom fixed London Broil, a salad, and my favourite; macaroni and cheese. Once again, a simple meal for simple people. I would have the opportunity over the next forty-eight hours to show Samantha my town. While small, she would be impressed. It was not the city she was used to, and she immediately appreciated the beauty of a small town. It had much to offer, and she soaked it up like the rays on a hot summer day.

We arrived at Samantha's home around 10:00 AM.

Well rested from our evening at the Alexander Hamilton house, and a little "hopped up" from the extra shots at Starbucks, it was time to settle in and settle down for the day. Samantha's mother was already cooking lunch and she would cook dinner that evening as well. She had baked a turkey all day on Saturday, so some simple turkey sandwiches with lettuce, tomato and spicy brown mustard for lunch fit the bill.

Her father and I watched football that afternoon. An avid New England Patriots fan, we watched them handily beat the Giants in a full-on, all-out brawl that afternoon. Tom Brady was at that time the best quarterback in professional football, and will be remembered as one of the greats, I feel sure.

While dinner would also be simple, there was no way it could compare to the last two evening dinners we had...but it didn't have to. A simple meal, for simple people; in love. As we gazed at each other across the table, I also glanced at Samantha's mother and father. They, too, could see the burning passion that was flowing from us. This was surely a relationship that was meant to last.

It was time for me to head back to Randolph. I had stayed as long as I felt I could; till around 7:00 PM, and that would put me back in Vermont by 10:00 PM.

Morning came early the following day. I was back on my schedule at Bent Hill Brewery, ready and prepared for work at 5:45 AM. Samantha had made it back to Boston, and for some reason was up early that day; as she had sent me an "I Love You" text message that morning. I was in love. In love with an Irish girl from New York, living in Boston.

Things could not be better, or could they be...I wondered.

I slept on my thoughts of where to go the following day, and decided on the Hudson Valley. I wanted her to experience some of what the area had to offer, as I had for few days while gaining the title of Level I Sommelier.

While I was not being presumptuous, I had take the liberty of booking us a Bed & Breakfast at the Alexander Hamilton House. Lunch would be held at the Gaucho Grill Restaurant and dinner at The Bocuse Restaurant. Between lunch and dinner, we would go hiking...so in the end, I was able to incorporate a couple of my ideas.

The Hudson River Valley has a treasure trove of hiking. I had done some quick research on hiking in the area and found that there were more than fifty trails (and counting) in the valley. I wanted to take Samantha to a special place. That place would be VerKeerderkill Falls. The hike would take us several hours to navigate the terrain and also to reach our destination. The pain would be worth the gain.

As we each gazed at the blazing water shooting downward from above, we also gazed in the eyes of one another. The analogy of the gazing between the beauty of the falls and the beauty of our gaze of love for one another was  otherworldly; in a literal sense.

Once returning from the falls, it was time to go to Bocuse. Dinner would be one of the best dinners that I had in my life. In addition to the one we had at Costata last evening, I had had two impressive meals in the matter of thirty-six hours. Our evening at the Alexander Hamilton House would be amazing; and would turn the day into a beautiful nite; and incredible Saturday.

We had breakfast the following morning at Starbucks. A simple chocolate croissant and a coffee, but we were both smiling from the day and nite before. We took our time getting back to Samantha's home, as we wanted to relive; and live, in the moment.

That weekend with Samantha was perfect.

We had reservations booked at a trendy New York City steakhouse, Costata. Chef Michael White was doing some amazing things with some amazing cuts of steak, and I could just feel the steak and the wine in my mouth as I salivated over the menu.

Samantha and I had the same thing...Quail Saltimbocca for an appetizer and a Boneless Ribeye. I debated on Colorado Lamb Chops, but they were to be had at a later juncture. If I had anything to say about the evening, Samantha and I would be returning to this locale.

The wine, beer and cocktail list was an impressive eight pages. I couldn't believe my eyes as I scoured over the list. I was not going to be able to spend such an evening in a similar fashion in my home town, so I would have to show her the beauty of a small town at my home. It was certainly nothing like NYC. I started with a Pinot Noir named "The Pip", moved on to a bottle of Barberesco from Piedmont, and then finished with an Old Fashioned. A "Top Flight" of my own creation to say the least.

The marbling of the steak along with the Barberesco from Gaja was simply amazing! Bon Appetite!

After dinner, Samantha and I stayed in the city. We went to a trendy niteclub nearby and danced the nite away. We promised to be home by midnight, via the train. It was an amazing evening that I will never forget.

As we danced, I thought of things that I might like to do with Samantha the following day. Since we were close to NYC, I thought about a picnic lunch, or a hike with lunch. We could always go biking along a wine trail up the Finger Lakes, or perhaps even up to the Hudson Valley where I had done my introductory course. I thought for a while, and decided I would sleep on it.

We hit the slopes around 9:00 AM. We had a lazy morning after breakfast; and since it was Sunday, I decided that the entire day would be taken at a slow pace and simply be relaxing. We each were ecstatic about our new status as "engaged" persons.

I phoned my dad around 10:00 AM, at the exact point on top of the mountain where I had proposed. Samantha phoned her mother, and it seemed like both families were "happy campers."

I knew I would have to leave for Randolph in the early afternoon, as I wanted to be rested and for Samantha to be as well as we returned to our duties as students and "worker bees". I was continuing to learn about craft beer making by the day. The theory I would apply much later in my career.

Around 2:00 PM, we decided to pull up stakes. We showered in the lodge at Stowe, and met at the car. We were each sad to see the other go, as it would be too long; no matter the time frame, till we saw each other again now that we were engaged. Seeing each other every two weeks would no longer "cut the mustard." We set a time over the next two weekends to spend a weekend at my parents and the other at hers...hers first.

The week at the brewery was long and I was excited to return to her parents home. It seemed like forever since I had been there, and it had really not been that long in the grand scheme of things. Her father greeted me with a warmth that I had never felt. Even from the feel of is handshake upon my arrival to his home, I could tell that I was "in like flint."

Samantha's father had made reservations at a nice restaurant in town to take us to on Friday nite. Saturday would be our time, and Sunday, family time. I was excited to see a different side of Samantha's family, and even more excited to share with her, mine.

Due to the inclement weather and the progress that we had made on two seasonal brews, I was given Friday and Saturday off.

I decided to go to Stowe. Most of the snowfall had finished and Samantha drove up from Boston. We rented a cabin and skied heavily that weekend. I could see something different in Samantha's eyes. She was maturing by the day it seemed into a beautiful Irish woman.

Up at the top of the slopes, I made a proposal; literally. I had gone to Zayas Jewelers and purchased a small diamond in an antique setting. It was actually an antique piece that someone had upgraded to another setting. I was able to get a 1 and 1/4 carat diamond in an antique setting for under $3000. At the top of the mountain, I expressed my desire for Samantha to be my wife.

She excitedly accepted, and we talked all weekend about an appropriate date. I proposed that we have a fall wedding in either this fall or the following. The following was probably going to work out better as I was committed to Chateau Montelena for a harvest season. Even the following summer would work if we didn't want to wait, but fall was each of our favourite seasons.

We laid by the fire that evening and talked about honeymoon destinations. Since we both liked winter and winter sports, we talked about the Swiss Alps, Whistler, Canada, and other remote places for a winter destination. I had never been to Switzerland, or even Europe for that matter, but a trip abroad seemed appropriate.

As the flames burned with crackling and popping, we talked until the "wee hours" of the morning. We would sleep in front of the fireplace, as we had done so many times. At dusk, I took a short car ride to the grocery store. I got some eggs, bacon, milk, and English muffins. I made coffee and breakfast and woke Samantha up around 6:45 AM. It was Sunday, and I was ready to hit the slopes with her again to reconvene and remember the exact place where I had proposed the nite before.

As she gazed in my eyes over a sip of coffee; I could tell that she was burning with a desire to marry me. And at that very moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

The next week was a rough one.

The weather was calling for three feet of snow at a minimum and as much as seven. El Nino was going to grace us with his presence and additionally a cold front coming off of the Great lakes was coming in conjunction. I phoned Samantha and told her to stay in Boston. Even they were supposed to get at a minimum, two feet.

The temperatures were also low. I found myself on Monday morning shoveling out the driveway at the cabin. There was already eighteen inches behind my car at 5:45 AM. It had been snowing at a steady clip all evening.

On my break at 10:00 AM, I called Samantha to see what the weather was like there. She was still aiming to come to Vermont as in Boston, the schools were already closed until Wednesday. I cautioned her to stay however, and enjoy a few days off with her friends.

I made it into to work each day, donning coveralls each morning. I had been smart enough to buy some decent work boots and some coveralls to allow me to work more comfortably in the barrel room. And of course, each nite I would spend time in the chemistry or biology lab at Vermont Tech.

Since our hiccup; better known as Abigail, we had not skipped a beat. Abigail never returned; and if she did, I was in a different locale in Vermont anyway. I didn't miss her, but I suppose I would call the experience intriguing. Perhaps it was part of the greater plan. As I matured over the winter, I spent many a moment in reflection. Especially while working at Bent Hill, I spent time in constant reflection. It was not that the work was menial and dull, rather that it was a consistent process which allowed time for my own thoughts to enter.

I thought of Samantha, my family and my own journey. I had come to realize that nothing happens by coincidence; rather, that everything happens for a reason. And while I was still figuring out those reason daily, all was well in the world at this very moment.

The snow fell and fell, and day by day the amount grew.

One of my teachers at the University of Vermont has posed a question to the class. Dr. Horton Tracy had said there was one question that you could always ask to get an answer to any question. He called it a "WITDB" question. The question you ask is, "What is the difference between?" When applying any two concepts, things or variable; you can begin to see the comparable properties and the differences between the two subjects or subject matters.

This question has carried me thru some of the difficulties and even the small things in life. I give him full credit, and have always and will always use this simple, but powerful principle.

Craft Distilling and Craft Brewing have some similarities, but also have some stark differences. For instance, there is the principle(s) of both microbrewing and microdistillery. This is don on a small scale with small batches of your substance of choice. The aging process and how the liquor and beer respectively ferments and ages is quite different. Barrels vs. Copper pots (usually).

Despite the differences, it was the theory of the two concepts that would begin to help me; mostly at the brewery, but would carry me throughout my career.

I was excited with what I was learning and Samantha and I had gotten back on our schedule of Wednesday and Saturday phone calls. We had also established a new plan; along with our renewed relationship, to see each other more often. We would take turns driving to Boston and her Randolph, every other week, until we were tired of doing so. I had been fortunate enough to find another lodge with a fireplace for us to lay by in the nite, so I knew we would be spending a large portion of our time there.

Another similarity between the two of us, is that we both liked to cook. She had not the greatest of set-ups at the school, so we did most of the cooking when together at my place. We learned to think like each other in the kitchen. The "right hand" seemed to know what the "left hand" was doing, so to speak. For some reason, we both were fond of Cajun and Dry-Rub Memphis Barbeque. Many a time, we would cook one or the other over the next few months.

With my relationship with Samantha restored and the fire rekindled, I was ready to make waves in Randolph.

I reported for my first shift at Bent Hill Brewery early at 5:45 AM that next Monday morning. I was excited to see what I could learn, as this would be a longer stint than the gig at the wine bar. Their equipment was amazing. Five tanks that held over 1,000 gallons of freshly brewed nectar from the Gods. I do believe it was Benjamin Franklin who uttered, "Beer is proof that there is a God". I would have to agree.

At Bent Hill, they used wood chip aging, but not just any wood. They used chestnut that ave each brew a unique flavor. An almost vanilla smokiness was the result. Each morning I began by sweeping the floor. At 10:00 AM, we would use a beer flute to take samples from barrels. The taste was a little different each day, as it should be. By noon, it was time for a bite of lunch, and there was more work to do each afternoon which included added yeast and sugar, and removing the old and adding new wood chips each day.

At Vermont Tech, I learned the theory behind the practice that I was using at the brewery each day. I thought of Samantha often as I did the most menial tasks. I thought about my own religion as I thought about the quote from Benjamin Franklin. "Where was I with respect to religion in my life", I pondered? This; however, was an evolving process, just as the process continued for finding myself.

The first week was successful. The teachers at Vermont Tech allowed me to monitor classes and participate in the chemistry and biology labs, despite the fact that I could not pay for the instruction. I had persuaded them due to the nature of my journey, and they kindly allowed me the ability to join the class. Bent Hill was happy to have me on board and felt that I had promise due to my experience in the wine world and also my knowledge, skills and abilities with respect to craft brewing.

Once again, all was right with the world. I phoned Samantha on Saturday to tell her about my week.

After receiving my letter in the mail, my father called. He had been in situations like mine before where someone had to be told something that a person like myself never wanted to divulge. Without  a doubt; if I had decided not to tell, regret would eat away at my mind, heart and soul.

A long conversation, and we each agreed that I had to go "hat in hand" back to Boston to see Samantha. Calling her on the phone to "talk thighs over; or through" just wouldn't do. I decided to make the trip within the next day or so.

Two other pressing issues were to begin to get familiar with the environment and schedule at Vermont Tech, and to find a part-time job. Much to my surprise, I was able to gain an interview at Bent Hill Brewery. They were actually looking currently for an associate brew master, and I had some of the skills and qualifications that they desired. After interviewing with them personally, they called an hour later and offered me the position. "There must be a God", I thought!

Also, in what seemed to be a "perfect storm", Vermont Tech had just finalized the curriculum for two new classes. One in Craft Brewing and the other in Craft Distillery. While I was at no point interested in making Moonshine or Whiskey, I decided that the theory alone would be worth its weight in gold to listen to and gain the instruction. The classes this time would be much more lab oriented, so I knew that I might have to not only pull some strings to get in, but would additionally make for excellent instruction to o hand-in-hand with my part-time position at the brewery.

There was four days before I would start at Bent Hill Brewery. I left early on a Wednesday morning for Boston. I awaited for Samantha as she would exit her class ending at 11:00AM just like last time. When she came down the stairs from the building, she saw me and initially turned and kept on walking. I pleaded to have her stop and chat with me for a bit. Reluctantly, she agreed.

As we sat on a bench near the quad, we talked for over three hours. She had even missed two classes in the interim that day, but I could feel us turning a corner. That day, we not only rectified our differences, but my apologies were accepted and I forgiven. Additionally, we forged a "formal" relationship, as this would have definitely stopped me in my tracks a week ago Monday.

Satisfied with the outcome, I stayed the nite as Samantha had invited me to. We talked about my new opportunities in Randolph; and once again, we were a strong team. Stronger than we had ever been!

Dad,

I am now in Randolph, Vermont, just south of Montpelier. I have found an interesting program and classes to monitor while continuing to develop my skills in wine making and craft beer making. Due to the part-time job that I had in Montpelier, I am in excellent shape with respect to my finances. I was able to pay down $2000 against the line of credit that we established and now once again have $6000 available. I will be looking for work her in Randolph tomorrow.

I have had an interesting week to say the least. During my last few days in Montpelier, I met a woman, Abigail, at the wine bar. She was quite mature compared to me, but we shared plenty of similarities as she recanted the time in her life when she was "finding herself". This attracted me to her; these bits of common ground, and I wound up in her trap at a Bed & Breakfast last Monday nite. It was quite the experience, but I immediately felt remorse on Tuesday morning. I felt as if I had put Samantha in a position to leave my side.

I drove to Boston, as I needed to share with her in person what I had done. While I mentioned that my actions were inexcusable, she still left our morning breakfast in tears. I will call her tomorrow evening, but I feel as if she will not be ready or prepared to answer.

To that end, I need some advice. Should I return to Boston and try to reconcile our differences in the situation in person? I have already broken a piece of her heart, and it seems as if she has done nothing wrong and is not to blame. She has done nothing but support me in my endeavours.

While we were not technically "boyfriend and girlfriend", the lack of the titles and exclusivity matters not.

I need and want her back, and could use you as an advisor.

Best,

Your Son

I decided I would have to tell her in person.

I drove to Boston unannounced leaving at dawn the following Friday morning. The trip was long and the weather fair, but she deserved the truth. I arrived just before 10:00 AM, as the drive was just over three hours. I knew she had a class until 11:00 AM, so I decided to gather my thoughts.

The sad part was that she had been so supportive. How could I have been caught by the "Venus-Fly Trap" and broke our bond. I knew really not how or why I had let the events unfold, but I did. As I waited for her outside the science building; smoking a cigarette to calm my nerves, she saw me and rushed in a lunge toward me with a giant hug. Little did she know that I was about to break her heart in two.

We went downtown to a restaurant for breakfast. It took me a while but I finally broke the news.

I said it in the best lite possible, stating, "Samantha, I want to apologize in advance for what I am about to tell you. I have broken our trust. Not that we have had a formal arrangement in place, but I feel as though we have an incredible bond and you have supported me along this journey to "find myself" from Day 1. That being said, I want you to know that I slept with a woman in Montpelier. I haven't seen her since, as she left like a bad renter in the nite, but it happened. I felt compelled to tell you in person and that is why I am here."

The tears immediately started running down her face and her fork she dropped in mid air and slammed her coffee cup on the table. After a few more tears and regaining some composure, she started, "I too realize we are not an item, but we had something special. I was waiting for you to "find yourself" before entering formal partnership, as I knew not what you wanted to do and neither do you. And now this. And now, I am not so sure. I need some time."

She declined a ride back to the school and instead hailed a cab outside. I paid for breakfast and decided not to finish mine either.

I would simply return to Randolph.

I called Samantha that following Wednesday. I felt like I had somehow; no, definitely, degraded and made a mockery our our relationship, but I couldn't tell her what had transpired. It would have to wait.

It was now November, and I was beginning to see December approaching fast. I had given my two-weeks notice at the wine bar, citing that I needed to move on. There was more for me to do in Vermont, and I had to do what I felt deep in my heart. Chloe would be sad to see me go. She even slated a party and closed the bar except for close friends and family of the entire crew. It would be held on a Thursday.

I knew that I needed to find a new place that would allow me to continue both my wine and craft beer education, and I also felt the need to get some additional classroom instruction by monitoring classes. I had enjoyed that in Burlington, and desired to get back to focused instruction. So as part of my search, I phoned some local colleges and spoke to the biology and chemistry professors. Food science was more aligned with biology, so I felt the need to get more acquainted with chemistry.

Just south of Montpelier, there was a program at Vermont Tech. At the Institute for Applied Agriculture and Food Systems, I would be able to further my education. Samantha continued to support me, but how would she take it when I "spilled the beans"

I had to tell her; somehow, someway!
 

Since I was to pick the restaurant, I chose something entirely different. The was a Thai place in town called The Royal Orchid. And since I knew the wine list would not be stellar, I decided to urchase a few bottles for Abigail and I to share with dinner.

There was no corkage fee, and I even took the extra step of bringing my own corkscrew. I purchased Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc, a white from the Malborough region of New Zealand, and a red from the Rioja region of Spain. This would at least get us started.

She started out with lite conversation, simply recapping some of what we had covered in the past three nites at the wine bar. She definitely seemed genuinely interested, and I could see the fire and passion in her eyes. "Maybe this was for real", I thought?

In a moments notice though, it turned very serious. She mentioned that she had "on a whim" booked a room for the nite at the Ugly Dog Cabin Bed & Breakfast. Knowing that his might happen, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "Are you up for it?" I thought for a split second, and said I was. Perhaps it was the wine talking, but I was now fully committed to a note with Abigail.

She was; undoubtedly, a beautiful women. Despite the fact that she had beautiful golden hair in curls, bright green eyes and a million dollar smile, I knew what was to come of the evening; and I also knew that remorse would eventually follow, the following day.

We dined for about two hours. When the last sip was gone, she said that she was ready to go straight away to the Ugly Dog Cabin. Upon arrival, we built a fire as it was a little breezy from the door which was slightly cracked. It had obviously weathered many winters and the weather had won.

We sat there drinking another bottle; this time a Chateneauf-du-Pape that she had purchased at a local wine store. She had purchased three to my surprise, and before turning in they would be gone. There was La Vieux Telegraphe, Rombauer Vineyards Cabernet Sauvignon, and Tiganello; a Super-Tuscan from the Antinori Family.

As you might guess, it was a long nite. She was silky and smooth for a while before turning up the heat. Like a tigress in the wild, she devoured me for hours. I had never experienced anything like this before and perhaps she hadn't either. I was young and my youth still made me like the tiger that fit well with the tigress.

By morning, we were both wore out. We slept only an hour by the fireplace, having made it to the bed and back to the floor several times. At 6:00 AM, we made coffee in the room before going to breakfast at 7:00 AM. Check out was not until 11:00 AM, and before then, she would remove every last bit of body fluid I had.

At eleven, she left for New Hampshire, and the remorse started.

On Saturday and Sunday, Abigail came into the bar as promised. She was there at 7:00 PM sharp on Saturday and at noon on Sunday. She started with a chocolate Martini on Saturday and then moved on to whit wine and finally reds. On her list of alcoholic beverages that evening, there was Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc from the Malborough region of New Zealand, followed by Alamos Cabernet from Mendoza, Argentina.

I also recommended some of the more unknown corners of the world, like Chateneauf-du-Pape, Cornas, and even far away corners like Paraguay and Uruguay. Regions like the Uco Valley and others...these up-and-comers were my favourites. Even in America, I stayed away from Napa, and steered her more toward the Finger lakes and Walla Walla.

On Sunday, she started with my Signature Bloody Mary. Personally, I like them spicy, so I add a little extra kick for those without a faint heart. It seemed her desire for me and her desire for bodily pain were synonymous. I knew; if given the opportunity, that she would take me for a "walk on the wild side"; however, there was the issue of Samantha.

She had asked me everything to include my favourite sports teams and my previous relationships; and current, in those three days. She took time and careful aim at my heart. And to my surprise, it was working. I was being worked on and worked on like Muhammad Ali used to do with his competitors. He used to "float like a butterfly and sting like a bee"; remember. Well, Abigail had worked me for twelve rounds and was heading in for the kill. One final uppercut, and I would be toast.

It took every ounce of me to attempt to resist, but I allowed her to take me to dinner Monday nite. I was to pick the place and had strict orders for a place with fine dining and a nice; even excellent, and expansive wine list. "Was she going to get me drunk and take advantage of me"? "Would she then jet off to New Hampshire or Maine and never return"? These are the questions I had as I lay in my bed on this Sunday evening.

"What was Abigail's angle"?

Things were going well at the wine bar. I was earning good tips, and Chloe, the food and beverage manager, was taking my input and allowing me to be a part of the wine I served and the offerings we added to the list. Additionally, we started having a featured Martini and added about twenty in total to the list.

One evening, I had a client that had been coming in from time to time; always traveling on business. Her name was Abigail. Abigail was a traveling pharmaceutical representative and Vice President for Pfizer. She covered most of Vermont, Maine and New Hampshire. She almost always ordered our reds, but she had been ordering the wines that I had been featuring.

On this particular evening, she started with a Loire Valley Riesling. Since she was not familiar with this particular region of France, and she had many questions to ask. While she wore a sweater made from El Paca wool that evening with a cowl neck, I could sense her eagerness to chat with me. The small-talk drifted away from the wine and focused more on me.

I had figured when telling her that I was in Vermont to find myself that may have a negative effect. However, she chimed in and mentioned that she went thru that period later in life; close to thirty, before landing an entry-level job at Pfizer. She talked about how it was an important time in her life and how; in the end, it allowed her to develop a "laser focus" as to what she was to do next.

Prior to this, she had worked mainly in restaurants, bars and retail while earning a Master's degree in history and secondary education. She sat on that bar stool until 2:00 AM. Promising that she would return the next evening, she mentioned she would be there each nite until Tuesday, and she asked me to go out with her on Monday.

I was skeptical, but thought it couldn't hurt. "Could a woman of thirty-seven truly be interested in me", I thought. I pondered it in my bed; looking at the ceiling for nearly an hour.

I would soon find out...

My opportunity in New York was successful. I had gone to the Hudson Valley and came back victorious.

It was time to jet to a new location in Vermont. As I poured over the map, there was something about Montpelier that was calling my name. Off in a flash after packing, I headed southeast along the Winooski River thru Richmond and Waterbury. It was a beautiful drive and now as it was headed into winter the softness of the snowflakes hitting the ground in front of me barely covered the road before melting.

It was a short drive away and even with the skift of snow upon the roads the trip was only forty-five minutes.

I arrived in Montpelier excited to see what the city held for the next little bit. A restaurant called the Skinny Pancake on 89 Main Street grabbed my attention. I knew there would be some fresh Vermont Maple Syrup involved, so I was in. They offered everything from catering to live music, so I knew this would be a spot of interest for me for the length of my stay. I also needed to find decent lodging; and maybe a job, as I was starting to deplete the line of credit that my father had helped me obtain. It seemed to be weighing on me to take on that responsibility. With any luck, I would make enough to continue to pay on the open note and replenish my funds with the goal of being able to tell my father that the debt had been repaid and was open and available upon my return.

Armed with a Level I Sommelier designation, I interviewed for a position at the North Branch Wine and Tea Bar. The owner was kind enough to start me on the schedule the following Thursday, and I would work there three nights a week on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. This would increase my wine knowledge and I could put into practice both the skills I had learned on my own and perhaps those of the introductory course.

They served a robust selection with a focus on Italy and France, and I had hoped to persuade the food and beverage director of my knowledge. I had hoped to be allowed to suggest new offerings for the list on a limited release basis, and see how our clients would enjoy it before adding it to the growing wine list.

I found lodging for the next unknown time at Snowflake Mountain Resort and Spa. Normally at $289/nite, I was able to talk them into a month long contract at $50/nite. While that was still a hefty fee, they agreed to let me have the weekend days free of charge since I had booked four entire weeks for the month. I would be able to renew upon full payment in a month if I chose.

I was close to Stowe, so I skied in the early morning hours and during the week. I needed to find a forum to continue my wine education, so a short meeting with the food and beverage director for suggestions was eminent.

Samantha was excited to hear about my new prospects. She believed that the part-time job was an excellent idea, as I would need three years of wine service to be allowed to take the Advanced Level Sommelier Exam; one step before the the Master's Level Exam to become one of the most prestigious few in the world of wine.

I attended the introductory course toward becoming a sommelier.

The most exciting part for me was the knowledge that I gained from learning about the different wine regions from around the world. I focused as much on the smaller AVA's as I did on the larger ones. What I found in my learning, is that I became excited about the small producers in small and obscure places around the world. Cornas in France. Smaller cousins next to Bordeaux, Rioja, Portugal, and even those in Chile and Paraguay. Not just winter gear comes from Paraguay...there is palatable wine to drink and to share.

We learned about tasting and serving, and I was quite familiar with the former and learned a bit about the latter; enough to be proficient at least. We carried on late into the afternoon on the second day and I was excited to get to a restaurant and bar to "taste" the evening away.

The exam was scheduled for 9:00 AM, with three hours to complete the written portion. I had tasted many wines and served a few times; mostly in Burlington to students and professors. The knowledge I gained about the chemistry, wine making process and the wine regions of the world would come in handy sooner rater than later.

I phoned Samantha to let her know that I scored in the 85th percentile.

I was clicking my heels like an Irishman when I left. I had gained a new appreciation for wine, and now I was on the cusp of leaning away from craft beer and making a strong foray into the wine world. Case closed!

I would be victorious on that day and win the gold medal. While there was no further race to move onto, I have won a "Gold" that day, and it seemed to place a catapulting feeling on my heart. It was time to leave Burlington.

Samantha and I continued to talk each Wednesday and Saturday. It was past mid-semester and she was doing well in her classes. I had gained quite a bit of personal knowledge; mostly in my food science classes. I wondered how I would continue to learn, and I began looking for some options.

In the Hudson Valley of New York, I noticed a two-day wine school hosted by the Master Court of Sommeliers. This would serve as a foundation to continue my wine education. As an American Viticultural Area and restaurant Mecca, the Hudson Valley area was no stranger to food and wine.

The class was scheduled for October 24, and I had hoped to pass the introductory exam. I would be learning about the wine regions of the world, the AVA's, the kinds of varietals that are most commonly grown within and how to present and taste wine. I knew it would be an excellent resume-builder; as I was still beneath the "dark clouds" of what I wanted to do with my life.

Prior to going to the class, I drank many bottles in preparation. There were California Cabernets, Virginia Cabernet Francs,German Rieslings, Malborough Sauvignon Blancs, and even North Carolina Muscadets. I was going to be fully prepared to pass on the first go-around and share this new accomplishment with Samantha.

Additionally, I had been practicing pairing food with wine. This is really where the "rubber meets the road", if a career as a sommelier was ever going to be my path. I was; however, interested in making beer as much as wine; and Vermont craft breweries were popping up like dandelions in the early spring. To add to that, Samantha was close to the home of "craft brewing", as Samuel Adams operations were in Boston. The Boston Beer Corporation had spent the last thirty years making a slow, but exponential foray into the beer market, and was gaining share by the quarter and year against the behemoths like Molson-Coors and Inbev/Anheuser Busch. I wondered if there would be an internship in Boston, but I would further my education first and foremost.

There were a few items left to cross of my list in Burlington. I wanted to attend a session in the government building to see what that might look like. Politics always had seemed to be quite glamorous to me and the perks and benefits; even after leaving office, were quite good; even unimaginable. Who gets a salary for life, an office for life, a new car every three years and free healthcare? Answer, former politicians!

On the coming Thursday, there was a session that I was able to attend. The topics were not exciting, but I was able to catch a glimpse of the process. The airports in Vermont needed some infrastructure updating, and the vote was around the firm that the government would choose to use for general obligation bonds. This firm would also be tapped to perhaps do some bond issuance for road for roadway infrastructure as well.  I was asked to attend lunch by one of the councilman and I was able to tell my story a bit.

I had come to Vermont to find myself. To ski, to study and to chart a path that would take me to the next level in my life and career. He asked me many questions, and I answered succinctly. This particular House member had taken a hiatus to Europe in his younger years, so we found some common ground. Upon returning, he attended law school at Yale and had been in the same class as George H. W. Bush. Yale was no stranger to politicians, and he had made it onto several important committees including the finance committee meeting that I had just attended. While he had only twelve years in office, he was vested for all benefits.

Thursday's meeting was interesting, but I was more excited for Saturday. At Sugarbush, they were having an amateur junior slalom race. I had entered and paid the $75 entry fee. I was one of sixteen who had entered and would take my run in fifteenth place.

As I stood at the top of the mountain, stretched back, poles securely in the ground and awaiting the horn, I was a ball of anticipation. Once the horn sounded, I thrust forward and began my downhill run. The sun was blazing and made the snow and patterns before me glare with an almost unmistakable line. There had been fourteen skiers before me creating the S-curve paths.

I made it to the halfway point just a one-hundredth of a second behind the leader. It would be hard to gain ground as the second half was quite longer and wider sweeping than the first. As I was winding thru the course, I noticed my breathing getting stronger and my heart beating faster. It was only a few poles to the finish line and when I reached it I bent over and pushed my chest thru the the finishing rope. I had made it. By two-hundredths of a second, I held the lead with one skier to go.

But for now, it was time to continue my sabbatical in Vermont.

Samantha's visit was too short. We had excellent conversation that would be memorable for many moons by the fireplace at the cabin in Stowe. We had previous memories from there and would make new ones this time. We tried new wines from California and I had introduced her to La Vieux Telegraphe from Chateauneuf du Pape and some wines from Cornas. Cornas was also an up-and- coming region, and in the good years, the wines were succulent, fresh and quaffable at a young age, but would also age well with time in the bottle.

I was sad to see Samantha go. She had stayed until 8:00 PM, and I was a bit concerned about her driving so far after dark, but, we prayed together and I knew God would be her passenger and companion for the evening.

She arrived in the early morning hours and called after sending a text message to let me know that she was safe. Once back in Boston, she lamented at the fact and mentioned more than once that she was sad and happy; happy to be back, but sad to have left. She had been by my side for only fifty-four hours, but we had made memories.

I would continue to go to classes on Monday. As mentioned previously, I was gaining knowledge by the day in the area of food science. I continued to make wine and beer in my small cabin that I was renting. I was skiing on the weekend to clear my head and think about the direction that I would take next. It would soon be time to scope out a new location.

We had reconnected that weekend and renewed our bond.

Sugarbush and Stowe were our preferred venues for the weekend and we would stay at Stowe in a cabin like we did once before. Our time sitting by the fireplace and talking about our prospective futures was refreshing. I was going to eventually be a winemaker and Samantha a scientist. I could see her easily flourishing in her career. With her father's guidance and recommendation, she would surely find a job in "Big Pharma", probably even before graduation.

I wondered where I might end up and wanted to attend the wine school in Bordeaux. It was the most renowned wine school in the world, and a close second was University of California at Davis. The Robert Mondavi school had been started and new centers and schools had been popping up on the map for quite some time.

I would definitely have to apply to the entire gamut to be accepted somewhere. It was harder to be accepted to the University of California at Davis without a strong recommendation and even further being a California resident. Those two things in conjunction seemed to be the "Golden Ticket". I would have to find a way.

Samantha was supportive of my plans. If there was one thing that I could see from her, it was that she would be eternally supportive of my goals, dreams and aspirations. I longed for someone to be so kind, loving and respectful.

In the following fall, I would gain a harvest internship at Chateau Montelena in California. I had applied to nearly sixty wineries, and received one response. I had chosen opportunities in the "Big Five"; which were California, Washington, Virginia, Oregon and the smaller, but up-and-coming  North Carolina. Within each, I chose the top American Viticultural Areas such as Napa and Sonoma, the Russian River Valley, the Charlottesville and Northern Virginia area, the Williamette Valley, and the Yadkin Valley in North Carolina. And luckily, I had been chosen as one of a select few to Chateau Montelena.