"My grandfather was Steven Toppa, a 2nd generation Italian-American and a master mechanic. He once cobbled together a complete, working car from random parts in a junk yard, just to show he could do it. Narragansett was the only beer he drank. In the 40s and 50s, he was known in Newport, RI for his pranks. On at least one occasion he rode a horse up the steps into the Fireside on Memorial Blvd (later the Tavern, now a real estate office), through its large doors, right up to the bar, and ordered a Narragansett. He later became the manager of the Fireside. He had a glass eye (to replace the one he lost when he accidentally over-inflated a truck tire) and whenever a Navy sailor new in town asked him to keep an eye on his drink, he'd return to find a glass eye in it.
He had a monkey and a goat as pets for a while. He'd sometimes get down on his hands and knees and butt heads with the goat, and win. He did the same to his new son-in-law on the day he married my aunt: the first order of business for my grandfather after the wedding was for the two of them to sit face to face and have a headbutting contest (he won that one too).
When he was 71 years old, my father visited him one evening - he was in a rocking chair, rocking slowly and looking a bit out of sorts, and there was a single, unopened Narragansett beer on the table. My father asked what was wrong, and he said that he decided his personal challenge for the day was to drink a whole case of Narragansett. By the time my father arrived, there was only one left, but he just couldn't drink it.
He had an open coffin at his funeral 20 years ago. When my uncle came up to pay his respects, he put a Narragansett in his hand. Wherever my grandfather is now, that Narragansett is with him."
You can hear what else Mike has to say on his blog at Toppa.com.