"What's your moment?"

Saint Arnold Brewery Entrance

Everyone who enjoys beer will say something different about it. People can talk about their favorite brands, flavors, styles, and brewers, but on top of all that, people who drink beer talk about their favorite memories with it. That first time you shared a beer with your Dad. A first date to that "perfect little bar nobody knows about." Toasting to my brother at his wedding. The common factor  is the connection. You shared that beer with someone. You enjoyed that moment with that person and with that beer.

"Beer is about community. We've always believed that at Saint Arnold." Brock Wagner knows beer. Starting his professional life as an investment banker, Wagner realized that he needed a change in his life. He had to lead from passion. Beer. "I have been homebrewing since college. I learned in my dorm at Rice University."He put everything on the line to try his hand in the then uncharted territory of Texas Craft Beer. Wagner is the Founder and Owner of Saint Arnold Brewing Company, a Houston Based Mircrobrewery that can claim the auspicious title of, "Texas' Oldest Craft Brewery." Founded in 1994, Saint Arnold is a strong name in Texas and recently, Louisiana.  Shipping over 50,000 barrels from El Paso to New Orleans. The brand, which consists of eight year-round brews and ten more seasonal or limited edition varieties, has a bottle for even the most discriminating of Beer Nerds. "When we brew our beer, we use four ingredients, malt, hops, yeast, and water. That's it…we never use any preservatives." It is important to keep the beer tasting fresh. And it is that sentiment that has made Saint Arnold such a respected name in the beer community. The company has won awards from numerous festivals and competitions, including "The World Beer Cup" and "The World Beer Championships". In addition to their unique beers and style, Saint Arnold also has a rather unique recycling program. You can trade in Saint Arnold cardboard beer carriers for company merchandise. If you are ever able to return 200,000 carriers, Wagner will give you the keys to the "Official Saint Arnold's 1957 Bentley".

A view from the Brewery Floor.

Stepping into the brewery, located north of Downtown Houston, the energy and passion is contagious. From the employees to the customers,everyone is animated. Saint Arnold is a place to explore beer. The brewery reveals itself to anyone that takes a tour, allowing the guests to walk the factory floor and travel at their own pace. Wagner also said that 2013 is going to be a big year for the company. The Saint Arnold Brewing Company will beginning finding its way into stores in Colorado and Florida. Wagner has been given the option to sell the brewery at a high price but he refuses, simply saying, "I love running a brewery." 

Having a Saint Arnold's that day was not my first beer. But, it was my first with that memory. Enjoying a fresh and cold "Weedwacker" in the hot Texas summer. Journeying through the brewery. Sharing a few words with Brock Wagner. Now, every time I have a Saint Arnold's beer, it will take me back to that moment of pleasure that was specific to me. What's your moment?

- Jeff




Learn more about Saint Arnold Brewing Company by visiting their website here.

For information about visiting hours and tours, click here.

"Please, don't hurt me!"

There are an average of 400,000 robberies and muggings annually in the United States. In the case of a mugging a person is supposed to stay calm, be cooperative, and listen very carefully. Most personal muggings do not become violent and a victim should try to be as cool-headed as possible. But, what happens when you are being mugged and don't realize that it's happening? Now you might be asking, "But Jeff? Is there anyone so oblivious and unwitting that they aren't going to realize when they are being robbed?" Well, my friend, it seems that you are greatly underestimating me.

In 2009, I was a sophomore in college and was feverishly working on my degree in acting. At the time, I was in rehearsal for the biggest production of the season which rehearsed in the civic center of Abilene, Texas. During the rehearsal process the cast was reminded to "arrive and leave in groups". While the theatre was very nice, it was located in an a more "crime oriented" part of the city. Now remember, this is Abilene, Texas not the back streets of Detroit. Meaning, everyone took the warning seriously, but we weren't in a state of constant vigilance.

The Abilene Civic Center 

One evening, I was late to rehearsal, which was unusual for me, so I was in a rush. I pulled into the parking lot and was in a light sprint to the door when I hear someone call out, "Hey! I need help!"

Surprised by the disembodied voice, I stopped in my tracks. Looking around, I saw a man in his middle forties walking up to me. For all intents and purposes, he looked "normal" to me. Whatever that even means but, I didn't find him unusual or threatening at the time. (Let me add that I am over six-feet-tall, which doesn't make me an obvious target for criminal activity.) I wait for this guy to catch up with me and the conversation goes like this:

"Hey, thanks for stopping. I really need help."

"Oh, sure. What can I do for you?"

"Well, you see, I locked myself out of my car and I ran out of gas."

"Man, that's too bad. Sorry about that."

"Yeah. yeah. So...I was hoping you could give me all your money." Which he said while simultaneous
pulling out an extremely large knife. I mean, this knife was huge. I'm not saying it was a machete but, this guy was not using it to cut a sandwich in half.

(Approximation. May not be accurate.)

The normal reaction to this would be something like, "Please, don't hurt me!" or, "Take anything you want!" But remember, I was thinking about how late I was, so the fact that this gentleman trying to rob me while holding a knife the length of a child's leg, did not register. Innocently, I replied:

"Oh man! That is too bad! I'm really sorry that happened. Unfortunately, I am extremely late and I need to get going but, good luck getting into your car!" This was followed by him giving me a curious look and an amicable parting of the ways. It was about ten minutes later when I realized what had actually happened and called the police.

To my knowledge, the police didn't find him or look for him all. So, if you ever discover yourself in Abilene, Texas and are on the business end of a cleaver, try telling your assailant that you really have to be going. You might walk away from the situation intact. Don't become a statistic. Remember, robbers are people too and they can run late just like the rest of us.

- Jeff

"It is critical to own your life."

Ted Wold is a Renaissance Man. Originally from Minneapolis, he has lived in Los Angeles, Dallas, and everywhere in between. He received his undergraduate degree from University of Texas in Austin and his law degree from Duke. He has worked as a lawyer, consultant, contract recruiter, and an award winning actor. However, what he believes to be the most important part of who he is, the part that is not glamorous or enchanting, is his history of drug-addiction and recovery.

Ted Wold

In 1984,Wold moved to Dallas, Texas and began work as a lawyer at a prestigious law firm,"There were two things that convinced me that I should no longer be pursuing law. I was in court, as the second chair, and I fell asleep. I fell asleep in court because I was so bored.  After that, I was talking to a client and during the conversation, I looked him in the eye and said, "I think you need a lawyer!" he looked back at me and said, "Aren't you a lawyer?" I thought, "I don't need to be doing this anymore." Wold told me, with a smile.

After his amiable departure from his firm, Wold eventually began working as a consultant, which lead to him having a partnership in the consulting firm "Hyde, Danworth, and Wold". Despite his success in the field, there was something missing in his life, even if he did not know it. Then, one day, it changed in a flash.

It was a normal morning for Ted Wold, he was reading the Dallas Observer and saw an ad to audition for Theatre Arlington in the Metroplex. Wold had done some acting in high school but, he was an adult and had no training. "I thought to myself, "I can do this." He was cast in the play and found the passion that he had been searching for his whole life.

Even after he began acting, Wold didn't tell anyone at the firm that he was involved in the theatre. Enough time passed and Wold realized that he couldn't continue working as a consultant, "I was in love. Not with a person, but with a passion. They were very supportive when I quit and you're not gonna win an argument against someone who has the power of their convictions behind them."

Today, Wold is a fixture in the Dallas acting scene and has won numerous awards, including two Dallas Critics Awards for Performance by an Actor and two Leon Rabin awards for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor.

After talking for a while, Wold brought up the most private part of himself, "It would be disingenous to not bring up the fact that I am a recovering drug addict. When I was 38, I was at a bar and was introduced to cocaine. I had eventually developed a $1,000 a week habit and was living with a drug dealer."

The entire time Wold spoke to me about this, there was no sadness or shame, he presented himself with truthfullness and a demeanor that said, "This is my history. This is what I have done and I have no excuses for who I am, either then or today."

Wold went on to explain when he realized just how extreme his addiction had become, "At one point, I was trying to score some coke and my dealer wasn't answering, so I went to his house and broke in. I climbed into his backyard while he was inside watching TV. This was probably, 2:00 AM on a Wednesday. He saw me coming in his back door, grabbed his gun and pointed it at me. I looked at him and said, "You don't understand. I'm just looking for some drugs."

"(After that)I didn't have any options. I had hit rock bottom. I saw that I was putting drugs before my family, before my passion, before my work. I initially got clean out of panic, I didn't want to lose everything." Wold continued with therapy and started going to AA meetings, "It saved my life. What I enjoy today is being clean and sober and working with others on that quest. I enjoyed drugs, yes, it would be a lie to say I didn't, but I enjoy being clean and sober more.''

Today at 53, Wold loves his life. Continuing to act in Dallas he also teaches private students and has his own contract recruiting business, "Wold Inc." Additionally, Wold has a service commitment at Turtle Creek Manor, A recovery center for people struggling with drug and alcohol addiction. He firmly believes that one of the best things a recovering addict can do to help themselves and to help others is to share their story.

Before finishing out conversation, Wold left me with this:

"It is critical to own your life. That means owning your choices, owning mine. In my experience, it's about showing up in your life. Don't make excuses. Own it. Own it. "

You can check out the Turtle Creek Manor website here.

- Jeff

There is so much more I learned about Ted during our talk that I easily could have written something twice this length. Which I might very well do in the future. 

"You better bring the cash."

I have always considered myself a "reader". I read constantly. Unfortunately, it costs money to read and money is one part of my life that is severely lacking. A few months ago, I remembered that libraries are a thing that exists and decided to get a membership, or else  resort to burning books for warmth and eating the ashes for food. As to avoid this fate, I planned a day to vist the libraries of Manhattan.

New York Libraries may be famous for their books, but from here on out, I will remember some for a very different reason, the rancorous stench. The smell can be terrible. Just awful. Almost angry. As if, someone filled a pot with stale food, vomit, body odor, and clothing so dirty that it has developed its own consciousness, and then dumped it all onto the carpet.  Conversely, librarians are some of the greatest people on Earth. If I were a librarian, I would probably kill myself. That is not a criticism of them, it is a comment on me. They have a dedication and compassion that I do not possess. The fact that a librarian is able to take someone screaming in their face and then respond like the Pope, is a testament to the will of librarians everywhere.

However, this story is not about librarians or libraries. It is about what can happen outside of a library and how a hapless guy can can be accused of stealing your intellectual property.

I was on my way to the library at the corner of 42nd St and Fifth Avenue. It was the third leg on my tour. Before going inside, I stopped and took a moment to enjoy the air. It was February and the weather was pleasant. The air was crisp and fragrant. Birds were chirping, children were laughing, all that good stuff. It was right about then, that I was approached by a woman who fit the bill of an aunt on vacation. She wore a sun-visor, teal and purple track suit, and sneakers. The kind that aren't fashionable but will give you comfort and support for a day of exploring New York. Stopping right in-front of me, she asked:

The New York Public Library at 42nd and 5th.

"Do you have grandparents?"

"Yeah. I have two grandma's."

"I'm sure you care about them very much. My job is to teach art and poetry classes to the elderly. Would you like to hear an original poem?"

I responded with, "Sure!" but what I should have asked was, "Will this cost money? Because, if it does, we are both in for one awkward conversation."

 Immediately, the woman began a poem about nature. It was high energy, the kind a teacher reads to a class to show that, "See! Poetry CAN be fun!" The performance was accompanied by hand gestures and full-bodied movements. This clearly had taken some time to craft and perfect and I'll freely admit, I liked it.

After she had finished, the woman held out a donation cup, the sort with stickers and hearts on the front with various coins and crumpled dollar bills inside. I meekly fished out my wallet, knowing full-well that there was absolutely nothing inside. I half expected a dust cloud or a pair of angry flies to come shooting out of a wallet that was almost crying, "feed me."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I don't have any money."

"Excuse me? You don't have any money?"

"No. I don't. I am excruciatingly poor."

"Well, you could have told me that in the first place and then nobody would have wasted their time. This poem is mine. It took a long time to create it and I don't appreciate wasting it on someone who will just take it from me." She gave me a withering look that said, "If you ever want to hear a poem again, you better bring the cash." and then stormed off. Looking for the next person who would claim that they too, loved their grandparents.

Fortunately, I had taken two things away from that interaction. Firstly, that listening to a poem can be a form of identity theft. And secondly, If I had given that woman a dollar I probably wouldn't be remembering her or her poem today. Like I said before, it was pretty good.

- Jeff

"We all do have common threads."

For 15 years, Ryan Potts has worked in Advertising, Public Relations, Online Strategy, and as an Online Media Buyer in New York City. One month ago, after parting ways with his employer, he packed his car and drove 1,700 miles to Oklahoma City. It originally began as a time of rejuvenation, but it soon became the unexpected start to a new chapter in his life.

"I shipped off to New York with about 200 bucks in my pocket and a few changes of clothes. I still don't know how that worked out." Potts told me, voice halfway between pride and disbelief. He had moved to New York  because of his acceptance into the American Musical and Dramatic Academy. "It was totally out of control. I had to find a job immediately. I went to a temp agency and my first assignment was at Miramax Films, in the mailroom, and I worked my way up to Senior Advertisting and Post-Production." Because of his quick rise at Miramax and his dedicated interest in the company, Potts dropped out of AMDA and continued to work full-time in the film industry. At Miramax, Potts handled interaction between Talent and Casting Agencies and supervised the construction of TV spots, trailers, and promotional releases.

Ryan Potts

Like so many others, Potts lost his job at Miramax in the 2003 and 2004 layoffs. The Walt Disney Company co-owned Miramax and were looking for a way to cut costs, over 100 employees at Miramax lost their jobs, one of the heaviest hits being in the PR office.

After the fallout from Miramax, Potts decided to take on the challenge of Online Strategy, doing independent work for several different companies. "I identify companies that don't have an online presence and then analyze their competition. I then go into their office and I tell them, "This is what I do and this is how I can help your business." His work includes, creating new websites, boosting online traffic, and introducing companies and products to the Internet.

Potts continued to do this until just a month ago. "I was stalled." He used this phrase to describe both his work and his outlook at the time. He had been living in an apartment that had been rent controlled for the past 25 years and through a serious of zoning and tax loopholes, the landlord had found a way to evict Potts and renovate the apartment raising the rent almost exponentially.

With that turn of events, Potts had made up his mind, it was time for a change. He amicably parted ways with his employers and clients, packed a Uhaul and drove 1,700 miles over four nights to Oklahoma City. "It was fascinating to me…I stopped in the tiniest towns I could find. Any town with a bar and a pool table and I hung out with the locals in these towns, shooting pool and drinking beer. We talked about their pre-conceptions of New York and my pre-conceptions of small towns." Potts, a man who had barely left New York in 15 years, took a moment to reflect on the similarities he had with the people he had met on his journey,"We all do have common threads," He went on to say, "For three of the four nights I traveled, people offered to house me in their private residences. Which was amazing."

Potts had originally planned for his time in Oklahoma City to be a chance to refresh and focus before returning to New York City. All of that changed when he reconnected with a past relationship. "It has become very serious." He said happily. Since the move, Potts has begun again working in Online Strategy. Except this time, he is working completely independently and has quickly cultivated a number of clients in the OKC area.

Ryan Potts originally left Oklahoma to begin a career as an actor. Through the almost happenstance changes his life has taken and the seemingly random opportunities that presented themselves, Potts has found himself back in the place of his birth, with an opportunity he had never had before, the chance to create a family of his own.

You can find Ryan Potts on FaceBook and at his Word Press.

- Jeff

All photos taken by Ryan Potts

"Everyone you meet will come back in your life somehow."

I have no idea what fashion is. What people wear. What looks best. It can be hard to distinguish what we actually like and what we are subconsciously lead toward. The words, "Fashion" and "Style" are almost completely interchangeable in their usage and meaning, depending on who you are talking to. 

And since I have no place talking about fashion and have a penchant for wearing my clothes into oblivion where I am then forced to throw them away, because I look like a character out of a Charles Dickens novel, I started up a conversation with Chantal Adair. A young woman in New York who started at 16 as a High Fashion model and over the past few years has transitioned into photography and fashion journalism. 

Chantal Adair

When she was still in Highschool, Chantal began doing runway modeling and commercial shoots for companies like Estee Lauder and L'Oreal. But, after working for a makeup company and being a part of their Fashion Forecasting staff, she realized that what she loved was being behind the camera. And a great part of being a photographer instead of a model is that you decide what the pictures will be. 

"Eighty percent of the people I photograph I just meet on the street. I try to find people who have their own style, who are  confident in what they are wearing." Chantal has her own idea about how popular fashion can present itself. Her website, NYCStreetFile.com, is an exhibition for people who decide on their own what makes fashion, "They couldn't care less about any sort of approval." When there is someone on the street who has that intangible quality, she stops them and snaps their picture. She doesn't care what their face or body looks like, all she wants are pictures of people who bring their own flair to what fashion means for themselves. 

In addition to her ambitious take on freelance Fashion Journalism, she also does work for world

renown companies like Steve Madden, Galore, Bullett Magazine, and Elle Japan. Which has taken her from doing photo shoots in the streets of New York to Fashion Week in Milan, Italy and Paris, France. 

But what is most important to Chantal, the thing that trumps any of her success and work as a photographer, are her relationships in and out of the Fashion Industry. "I really enjoy connecting with and meeting new people. [I'm looking for] any way I could expand friendships. I love people. Everyone you meet will come back in your life somehow."

You can find Chantal and her work on her website: NYCStreetFile.com

Or, on twitter at  @nycstreetfile

She currently lives in the East Village.

- Jeff

All photos by Chantal Adair

"Wanna know the moral of the story?"

On any given night in New York City, there are more than 50,000 people who are sleeping in homeless shelters. Over 21,000 of these people are children. These numbers do not count the thousands of people who are not a part of the shelter system. There are more homeless people living in New York City than the entire population of West Hollywood, California.

In April 2012, I was in a scene acting class and I was, at the time, rehearsing a scene from Arthur Miller's All My Sons. I was playing "Joe", the patriach of a family gripped in scandal, because it is only natural for a 22 year old guy to play a man in his middle sixties. Following that night's revelation of, "You don't walk like a sixty-year-old!" I went uptown to meet a friend at, The Three Monkeys, a pretty good bar nearby Columbus Circle, where you can get a Vodka + Tonic that isn't too watered down.

Afterward, I was going to hop the 1 train at the 59th street station to my over-occupied and under-sized apartment on the Upper West Side where I was living at the time. While I was waiting for the train, I was approached by a homeless guy. He wore a large olive-colored bathrobe which was covering layer upon layer of old, worn out, clothes that were a mixture of blues, greens, browns, and blacks. I stood there for a while ignoring him because, hey, that's what you do in New York if you see a homeless person. Like it or not, even the softest heart is eventually coated in the grime and frustration of New York.

Eventually, he turned to me and said:

"Would you like to hear a good, clean, joke for a dollar?"

I looked at him and shot back the standard reply of, "I don't carry cash." Which, in this case, was even true.

He paused for a moment and then said,

"I'll tell you anyway!"

Before I continue with the rest of this story, I want to once again remind everyone that everything that follows is completely true. 

The man continued, "It was winter-time in New York and all of the birds were flying south for the winter. Except for one bird, he decided to stay behind. All of his friends looked at him and said, 'If you don't come you gonna freeze to death.' The bird ignored his friends and they all headed south. It kept gettin' colder and colder and the bird thought to himself, 'My friends was right. I better get outta here and head to Florida!' So the bird started flying out of the city, but it was just too cold. His wings froze and he crashed into this farm. A horse came up to the bird and said, 'Mister Bird, you look too cold. You're gonna freeze to death. I can help, but it ain't gonna be pretty.' The Horse turned around and pooped all over the bird. It was stinky, but it was warm. So the bird stayed there long enough and his wing healed, but he was stuck!

 A cat came up to he bird and said, 'Mister Bird! You are stuck in the poop! Don't worry I can get cha out! The bird liked that idea and so the cat dug him on out. Before the bird could say thank you, the cat ate him up!"

The man looked at me for a moment and said, "Wanna know the moral of the story?"

At this point, I was so enthralled by both the story and the fact that he had considered this to be a "good, clean joke", that I needed to know how it all ended.

"The moral of the story is, 'Not everyone who poops on you is your enemy and not everyone who gets you outta poop is your friend."

After divulging to me this bit of wisdom, he saluted me and walked away.

I have never before, nor since, wished I had a dollar more in my life.

- Jeff

"It is like oxygen to me."

I usually curse when things go wrong. And sometimes when I am bored. Everyone swears. Even if you avoid "actual" curse words and use your own fillers, at the end of day, we all know what you are really talking about.

No matter how often you curse, I can almost guarantee that you have never heard true, honest, core shattering cursing, until you work catering for a holiday party in New York City. 

During my time in New York I worked for four different catering companies. And during the holidays you could easily be working sixty hours a week. One of the companies that I worked for had a certain group, no, squad of men, that I affectionately referred to as, "Those guys who cuss all the f------ time." This was a group of about eight Indian gentlemen who had taken boring, run of the mill, swearing and lifted it to new heights. The words these fellows would use transcended swearing, it had become a sort of poetry, or even, was all that remained of a long forgotten and forbidden language. A normal conversation between them would flow like this:

"Aadesh, you f------ a------! Come move this table with me,you son of a w----!"

"F--- you! You do it yourself you lazy b----! I am working here!"

"What? If you talk to me that way again I will f------ kill you and slit your throat!"

"Drop dead, you stinking b------ f---!"

Following this bit of patter and word play, Aadesh would saunter over and help move the table. After seeing this same thing happen dozens of times, I no longer paid any attention to it but, I was still very curious about it.

According to New York State Law, if you are working as a caterer, you are supposed to get a thirty minute break every five-and-a-half hours. Often times this would not happen. If you were somehow awarded this break, you were also supposed to be given a meal to eat during your down time . This also, was an infrequent occurrence.

This past holiday season, when I was catering the Tree Lighting Ceremony for a very famous Christmas Tree at a very famous building, we were, in fact, given our thirty minute break AND our meal. A Christmas miracle indeed. On that night, I was sitting with my favorite group of poets of the forbidden tongue and I decided that this was my best opportunity to ask a couple questions.

"Alam, what's the story with you and Aadesh?"

"What the f--- do you mean?"

"Well, do you hate him or what?"

"Hate? F--- no! He was the best man at my wedding!"

"Oh. Well, then, why do you talk to him the way you do?"

"Which way?"

"Swearing all the time."

"Because,I f----- love to."

At this point, Aadesh had joined the conversation.

"Yes! We both love to swear. I can't not do it. It is like oxygen to me."

They then proceeded to call one another and me a heap of creative names. Which, in their own personal way, was a display of love. Or, something. I am still not sure. And I am perfectly okay with that. That is just how it f------ goes sometimes. 

- Jeff

Human Interest

My name is Jeff Ferguson and welcome to The Interesting Human.

This is a blog that will present people and businesses of all different kinds, predominately in Houston and New York. This is not and will not be an advertisement. The Interesting Human is only about one thing. People. 

It is remarkable that we live in a time where everything is showcased and nothing is notable. Recently, a friend had made me a plate of cupcakes. I immediately wolfed them down, leaving none alive and after I finished, I was disappointed in myself. Not because I had eaten six cupcakes in twenty minutes but, because I had forgotten to take a picture of them first so I could post it on the Internet.

Which was troubling, to say the least. 

The things posted here will not be reports or journals. They will be stories. Stories about people. Real stories. This is an experiment. Let's do it together. 

-Jeff