I can remember as a child around the age of 8 or 9 stomping grapes. My father and grandfather would purchase hundreds of pounds of grapes and in the back yard was a circlular tub about 5 feet across and about 2 feet deep made from wooden staves. They would dump the grapes into this and then invite all the kids from the neighborhood to come and play in the grapes.
This was a yearly function and all the parents would be sitting around getting drunk while us kids had the time of our lives. Most of us were purple for several days after but we didn't care. Now you need to understand that sanitation was not even considered. We are talking the 1950's here. Imagine 20 kids girls and boys, some had the same underwear on for days all jumping around with dirty feet and dirty asses; sitting down, swimming and whatever else you can imagine. Some started of with underpants and left for home without them.
My father and grandfather would make several hundred gallons of wine each year, made from grapes, dandelions and numerous other fruits and flowers. .
My father and grandfather would make moonshine or grappa with the mash left over from all the wine they made and sell it to the Indians who were required to live on reservations, the closest one to us being about 40 miles away in Brocket in Southern Alberta. We lived in Hillcrest in the Crowsnest Pass.
Now this was a time when Native Indians, you know the people we stole the land from, were not allowed in bars and not allowed to purchase liquor.
The trip on sales day was always fun for us because we were young and didn't understand the complexities of selling liquor (firewater) to Indians. We would pull up to the gate to the reserve and be escorted in by an native Indian on a horse and proceed to their reservation center. Once there my father was behind the wheel of the truck motor running and my grandfather was in the truck bed. He knew how many gallon jugs he had and everyone knew the drill.
Money in the air where my grandfather could see it and count the number of hands with money and when that number matched the number of bottles he had, the sale began. Money bottle, money bottle and when all were done, my father had the truck in motion. In those days, Indians were crazy for liquor and the last thing you wanted was to have more liquor and no Indians with money because a drunk Indian with no money is as dangerous as a grizzly bear.
Sanitary, let alcohol do it's thing.
