My friend Brent passed away last December, right before Christmas. I know it hit me hard, and I know it hit his family even harder. Brent was, in essence, locally famous. Perhaps the correct term would truly be "locally infamous." He had been part of the bar scene in Columbia forever, or at least as long as can qualify as "forever" when your life is cut short.

Brent was one of the first contacts I made when I entered the beer selling business, and he and I immediately hit it off. He had worked for, or with, pretty much everyone in town that was a part of the bar scene. If I needed a contact, referral, phone number, home address, or blood type of a bar manager, he was my guy.

He always wanted to open up his own place, and I'm glad he got to realize that dream. When Davis' opened, I was a regular. I was in there spending money when I didn't have the money to spend. When I was having a shitty sales day, I would go belly up to the bar and vent. It didn't matter if they were officially open, he would let me in and pour me a beer regardless. He was a giver, that guy. You've heard the term "give until it hurts?" That was Brent. Today was the 4th Annual Palmetto Peanut Boil, an event he founded and had always run. I couldn't stay long, but I went by today to honor him and have a beer or two. Even at noon, it was great to see some old friends and faces, and it was apparent how many of our lives he touched.

Brent always, always, always ended any conversation by saying "I love you, brother." Well, brother, I love you too, and I miss the hell out of you.

JT out.