Photo Credit – John Leone
There’s a special kind of wisdom you can only find in a place where the walls have soaked up decades of stories, the wooden bar is worn smoother than a river stone, and the bartender knows when to offer advice… and when to just raise an eyebrow.
For me, that place was The Tap in Haverhill, and the bartender — of course — was Don.
Yes, that Don. Hunt’s Photo Adventure Don. The man who can read light, weather, and human nature with alarming accuracy. Turns out, he reads bar patrons pretty well too.
One cold evening years ago, I found myself at The Tap after a long week. Photography had thrown me a curveball or two, and life had provided a few more just to keep things interesting. I sat down, ordered something amber and honest, and looked up at a wooden sign hanging behind the bar.
It was hand-painted, slightly crooked, and absolutely perfect:
“If you’ve come here to drink and forget…
pay your bill first.”
Before I could even smirk, Don wandered over with that trademark half-grin — the one that says he knows exactly what you’re thinking even before you do.
“Good sign, isn’t it?” he said, wiping the bar with the same precision he uses to clean a lens. “People come in trying to forget things they haven’t even dealt with yet.”
He wasn’t wrong.
He’s rarely wrong.
We all have our own “bars,” places we retreat to when life gets loud. A quiet sunrise on the coast. A long lens pointed at an uncooperative owl. A walk with Trish. A road through Yellowstone where you swear the landscape is whispering advice. And yes, sometimes the literal kind — a stool at The Tap.
But no matter the refuge, the truth is universal:
you can’t forget what you haven’t faced.
Unpaid promises.
Unresolved conflicts.
Those little things we let pile up because we think tomorrow will be more convenient.
Don slid the glass toward me, nodded at the sign, and added, “Settle your bill first — then you can actually enjoy the drink.”
That simple line hit harder than the whiskey.
Because it wasn’t about the tab. It was about clearing the mental clutter so you can be fully present for the moments that matter — the good light, the good people, the good days.
That night at The Tap has stayed with me.
Not because I was drinking to forget — but because Don reminded me that forgetting isn’t what helps.
Finishing what needs finishing does.
Then — and only then — does life go down smooth.
So if you ever find yourself at The Tap, thinking maybe a drink might help you outrun something?
Do yourself a favor.
Listen to Don.
Pay your bill first.
Epilogue
As I stepped out of The Tap that night, the cool Haverhill air tugging at my coat, I couldn’t help but think about the whole exchange — the sign, the wisdom, Don playing bartender-philosopher, and the quiet lesson tucked inside it all.
And that’s when an old Irish saying drifted back to me, as fitting as a perfectly poured pint:
“All stories are true…
some actually happened.”
I’ve always loved that line. It reminds us that sometimes the truth lies not in the details, but in the meaning. That whether a story unfolds exactly as told or grows a little taller with the retelling, the heart of it remains honest.
And this one?
Well… I’ll let you decide which parts happened and which parts were simply true.
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