I’ll admit I was a painfully good boy while attending college in Kingsville.

Back then, I did my share of drinking mostly to fit in with the rest of the pack. I’m not a big beer drinker, although I have had my share of bad-tasting sips.

My first introduction to alcohol was at the Tex Tilton ranch, in the brush country just south of town. I was a student in high school then, a member of a tejano group that performed mostly at dances. Somehow, we ended up at the ranch to entertain partying A&I students after the Javelinas whipped some dismal team into submission.

I can’t explain how awesome the Javelinas were back then, but like all things, the party attracted the girls, the girls attracted the boys, and the boys brought the beer. We played Jalisco all night. The beer of choice was Schlitz, and there was no comparison.

In 1981, I drank my last Schlitz when the company was acquired by a rival brewery. The beer was famously advertized with the slogan, “When you’re out of Schlitz, you’re out of beer.” So I guess I’ve been out of beer for nearly 30 years now.

Still, I’ve managed to have at least a few brews in my refrigerator thanks to my nephew, who restocks the old freeze box frequently with exclusive brews chosen from the Austin breweries he apparently frequents. He’s an elections administrator in Austin and has brought some good stuff over the years, but nothing that compares to the beer that made Milwaukee famous.

Schlitz also brought recognition to several clubs near the college campus. Back then, we’d spend our evenings at Skees shooting pool and sharing a pint while waging quarters on the pool table. The idea wasn’t so much to get drunk - since we didn’t have the money to get intoxicated anyways - but to have a good time and work off the stress of writing reports, attending class, and, of course, partying.

In those days, I worked at the Texas A&I Art Department setting up art exhibits for the visiting crowds. Money was scarce back then and I wasn’t the only one that was consistently broke, so buying beer was a luxury.

Later, we moved our weekly gatherings to the Americana in Alice, behind the Civic Center in Freer, in San Diego, the back roads in Concepcion, and just about anywhere we could get together.

I decided to use the topic for this column because of a discovery my daughter made while browsing through a family album kept by my sister (who happens to live next door, next to my brother, who is also my neighbor).” As it turns out, a photo of yours truly with a can of Schlitz was included in the album.

Curious about the matter, my daughter decided to look the matter up and discovered Schlitz is now available on the Internet for about $8 a six pack. The original recipe became available again in 2008.

I haven’t decided to place an order yet, as my preferences have since changed from drinking beer to sipping coke, but the prospect has crossed my mind.

So if you’re a former A&I student and are interested in reminiscing about your old beer drinking days you can always watch the old Schlitz commercials on U2.com. Even better, you can order a six pack on line and invite your old college friends for a lively reunion. It may be too late for this St. Patrick’s Day, but there’s always next year.