I once had this little pewter flask, usually containing Jack Daniel’s, that I carried with me everywhere. On one of it’s many romps, the little flask was nicknamed “The Circle of Sin,” and thus the tradition of takin’ a wee nip o’ the flask with every new acquaintance was born. Anytime I’d introduce myself to someone, we’d have to seal the new friendship with a draw from my trusty canteen.

I’ve carried the Circle of Sin with me to at least five countries, three islands, probably twenty states and across two continents. It’s been dropped, danced on and dinged repeatedly. It’s been thrown in the air, tossed across rooms and bounced off of heads. Everybody from old ladies to strangers sitting next to me at sad movies have known the Circle. Sadly, it eventually got so dinged up that the cap would no longer unscrew without difficulty. So, I just bought a giant bottle of Bushmill’s and kept that in my car.

Realizing that carting around an open container of whiskey isn’t the most sane, safe or legal thing to do, I kept an eye out for a new flask, and that’s about the time that I parked my car, whiskey and all and set off for DC, where I eventually picked up a new whiskey vessel. I kept wanting to bust out this new Circle of Sin, but the new flask was neither a circle, nor was it big enough at the time to quench my sinful thirst for the water of life. Work was stressful and although similar in size to it’s predecessor, this shiny new thing seemed no larger than a thimble.

Since the fall, I’ve relaxed a little bit. I came home to my parked car around Christmas, which was covered in bird poop, and under a stack of blankets, found my nearly full Bushmill’s bottle . . . and haven’t yet had a sip. Haven’t really wanted to . . . but today is the perfect day to celebrate and bring anew into the world the tradition of “The Circle of Sin.” (Well . . . except that whole thing about how the new one isn’t really shaped like a circle, so much as it’s shaped like a shield.)

My friend Nan is having a party to celebrate the life of her Mother, Josie, who passed away around Thanksgiving. I knew Josie and loved her smile and zest for life. So this afternoon at Josie’s party, I’m bringing along my virgin flask. And the first sip will hit the ground for Josie, and then we’ll mingle, the flask and I, getting to know all of Josie’s friends and sending toasts her way. I know she’d be smiling.