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Fred Minnick was forever changed by his tour to Iraq over two decades ago. Like many veterans, it took him a while to find the best way to cope with what he would learn was PTSD. Vets often find a new sense of peace and purpose that helps them heal; it can be charity work, or sports or gardening or yoga. Minnick found bourbon.
"I want you to put a thimble-sized amount on your tongue," Minnick told a room full of enthusiasts at a fancy restaurant in Cleveland's historic district earlier this year. He was there to spread his message of bourbon tasting as a life-affirming meditation.
"You can pull flavors out of your life in the glass, and that is the whole purpose of taste mindfulness," he told them.
They listened intently, each holding one of the three snifters apiece arranged on the table. The crowd was mostly men, quite a few with elegant beards like Minnick's, though he takes his Kentucky derby chic a step further with a blazer and ascot tied around his neck. Minnick has written eight books mostly about bourbon and spirits. But his most recent one is about his journey home from war.
As he explained to NPR, that road has not been straight or neat.
"I wouldn't really understand what was happening to me for some time, but I did not want to be around other people, my friends included, my family included," he said.
Minnick deployed to Iraq for more than a year with the National Guard, including the violent summer of 2004 in Mosul. When he got home in early 2005, he was angry, on edge, looking for bombs and snipers that weren't there – and picking fights with people who were.
"The one good thing that happened to me in that timeframe is I met my wife," said Minnick. "If not for her … I wouldn't be here. I'd be dead. I'd have committed suicide. I would have hurt somebody and ended up in jail. Or I'd be homeless, I know it."
His wife Jaclyn helped Minnick get himself into therapy at the VA, which he describes as life-saving. Once he was through the acute crisis, his therapist suggested something called mindfulness.
"The mindfulness technique was really meant to get my brain off situations that could possibly trigger me," he said.
Mindfulness therapy is meant to turn normal activities into a kind of meditation. Minnick started with texture. He'd carry a quarter in his pocket, and if he was stressed or angry or anxious, he'd feel the ridges on that coin with his hand and try to block everything else out. Minnick's therapist suggested he try a similar exercise with food.
"She's like, you're a foodie, you're a writer, let's focus on something that's creative: taste mindfulness," he recalled.
Minnick was more than skeptical, especially when he saw what his first mindful taste was supposed to be.
"My therapist said, all right, here's a barbecue potato chip. I want you to put this on your tongue, and I want you to think about how the salts and the sugars separate, how the crunch feels all over your tongue. Close your eyes and just really think about how all these pieces of the chip feel on your tongue," he said.
Minnick found himself completely absorbed by the complexity of the humble BBQ chip. He went home that day with a hunch that he was a supertaster, and then he took a fateful step. At home with Jaclyn, he tried it with bourbon.
"Caramel, like a really big juicy caramel chew pops up, and then, nutmeg from like a nice little slice of pumpkin pie just erupts. And it just hit me all at once. …I had a real ability to taste, and I wanted to do something with it," he said.
It's important to point out that Minnick has never had issues with alcohol, which can be a significant hazard for people with PTSD or depression. And his VA therapist certainly did not suggest he treat his PTSD with bourbon. For Minnick it felt safe, and he wasn't wrong about his talent for tasting and for writing. He's published books about women's key role in the history of scotch whiskey, about the origins of bourbon, and most recently about his obsession with a thought-to-be-rotgut whiskey, Old Crow. That book's called Bottom Shelf, and it's as much about Minnick's own climb up from the bottom after war. He says it resonated with fellow veterans.
"Yesterday it was a Navy guy, Navy officer came up to me and he was really emotional, and he told me that I've helped him," Minnick said.
It was at a book signing in Cleveland. When they shook hands, the vet "coined him." That's a military tradition involving the metal "challenge coins" that units use to commemorate a deployment. The coin Minnick found in his palm was from a combat tour to Afghanistan.
"It's his challenge coin from his last command. It was very powerful for me. I started tearing up, he was tearing up, I was hugging him saying, welcome home. But people don't realize, man, how hard it is, you know?" he said.
Minnick thinks that's maybe his next focus: The long and sometimes bumpy road home for war veterans.
If you or someone you know is in crisis or if you're thinking about hurting yourself, you can call or text 988, the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Press 1 if you're a veteran.
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