Cheers to family, in all its forms!

We wanted to share a story from one of our dear customers. Craig was adopted at birth, and as an adult he met his biological parents for the first time. Recently, he traveled from St. Pete to Seattle to meet his biological father and introduce him to a friend—our rye whiskey. Cheers to family, in all its forms! Read Craig’s full story below:

To my surprise, I had very few nerves considering what I was about to do. After all, I had only waited my entire life for this. It had been at least thirty years since I had last visited Seattle, and as I stepped out of the car I let go of the breath I had been holding along with all the expectations I had let tag along that day. “Here we go,” I thought.  

I was adopted at birth. This fact had never been a secret, I had known this my whole life. While my adoptive parents Tom and Sherry will always be my mom and dad, you may imagine what it may be like to always wonder about who gave me life and why they had to give me up. Because of the way adoption was structured in the 70’s, those questions were just things I had come to accept that I would likely never know the answers to.

In 2015, that all changed when Norma, my birth mother, and I found each other. Through emotional conversations and visits, this amazing woman was able to fill in most of the gaps in the story of me. She had given me a backstory, told me who my people were, provided books of family history, and shared how long she had searched for me. Now, as I stood in the street of a lovely suburb on the north side of Seattle, she had given me the key to the last piece of my puzzle -- the opportunity to meet my biological father, Alan. 

In a recent exchange, Alan told me that his two-year-old grandson had called him out for having “a lot of food in his belly.” But that day I was greeted by a gentleman only slightly shorter than myself, whose physique indicated a still very active lifestyle in spite of his grey hair. I noted his kind eyes framed with laugh lines as we shook hands, and I recall being somewhat surprised at the strength in his arms as we and embraced.

Hailing from Aberdeen, on the Northeast coast of Scotland, the man who was my father told me about his life, family and military service as he gave me a tour of his lovely home. I think he was pleased to learn that I had served in the U.S. Marine Corps, as he made a point of explaining our family’s tradition of military service, which dates all the way back to the personal guard of King George. As the afternoon went on, we continued to talk while the Seahawks played on the television in the background.  

I am no whiskey expert, but it did not seem prudent to me to give just any whiskey to a Scotsman!  Working next door to the distillery at the time, I had been able to visit Kozuba a number of times. Having experienced the exquisite craftsmanship of the distillery’s cordials and vodka, it seemed a safe bet that their single barrel whiskey would do the job.  So as the afternoon turned to evening, and I said my farewells, I presented my father with a bottle of Kozuba and Sons rye whiskey.  

Life gets in the way sometimes. I don't get to speak with Alan nearly as much as I would like, but one during a text exchange some time after our meeting I asked him what he thought of the bottle I left with him. “It was delicious,” he said to me. Actually, it was something along the lines of “Ach aye noo!” I expect that's high praise coming from a guy whose family was known for making whiskey themselves. Big “thank you” to Papa and his team for being part of this very special occasion!