Come to Scratch

I have told this story before, in a 2010 blog post, but I think it’s worth retelling seven years later. It seems to fit well with the intent of this post. As you will see as the discussion proceeds, I “came to scratch” with the adversary and lost.

My first chance to get a taste of real beer came one evening in Antioch, California when I was about 14 years old, as I was babysitting our next-door neighbor’s children. They were not LDS, and there were three or four beer cans on the table in front of the couch. There was also cold beer in the refrigerator. I didn’t have the courage to open a fresh one, but as I shook some of the cans on the table, I discovered that they still had some beer in them. After some personal discussion with the adversary (or one of his minions):