The process of naming a beer entails hours of deliberation, list-making, and discussions to bring a creation to life. The aim is to find a name that resonates with the brand, a name that carries weight and embodies the essence and character of the brew.

The term "Curio" holds a distinct significance, denoting a rare, unusual, or intriguing object. It encapsulates curiosity and the allure of the unconventional, making it a perfect fit as a core beer of Fernson Brewing Company.

Curio has been a staple of Fernson Brewing Co. since late 2015, making its debut in cans during the summer of 2017. At that time, Fernson was refining its brand identity, exploring various concepts, including one centered around the notion of a Prairie Storybook. An early idea introduced an enigmatic figure named Fernson, though this concept never fully materialized, leaving the story of Fernson’s Curio confined to the recesses of memory from those formative years.

The concept of Fernson as a wandering storyteller was both imaginative and captivating. The idea was to craft tales and adventures where Fernson encountered challenges aplenty. Amidst these trials, he possessed a knack for uncovering hidden treasures—curios that seemed tailor-made to unlock the solutions to his dilemmas.

Today, we're thrilled to share with you, for the first time, the untold story of Fernson's Curio! While some debate persists over its true title—whether it be the tale of the Broken Compass or The Value of Small Things—the essence of the story remains unchanged, as follows:

The Broken Compass or, The Value of Small Things

“Pack what’s important. We’re leaving soon,” mom said as she flew past the door.

He stood still, looking down into the chest in his room, trying to decide what’s valuable. A steel truck with a broken wheel. A red-haired doll that he held when he was younger. The nubs of some crayons––those are worth bringing along. He brought his leather shoes, even though he preferred to be barefoot, and a hand-painted photograph that his older cousin made of their school building. He dropped them in a sack, still mostly empty, and transferred his knife and compass from his pocket. On his way out he plucked the green carved pendant hung on his door for good luck.

Not seconds after he cinched up his pack, his mom snatched it and pulled it open, peering inside, “you didn’t pack any clothes.”

“What’s wrong with these jeans?” He asked. They were worn but strong. Still went past his knees.

She pulled the compass from the bottom of the bag and paused. “This is beautiful. Where did you get this?”

“From Fernson when I went camping with him,” the boy said. Fernson was a close friend who had helped with their orchard the past few years.

“Well it’s good he’s coming along–you’ll be able to give it back to him on our way.”

“No! It was a gift and I’m keeping it,” he interjected.

She flipped it over, ran her hands along the thin chain, opened it up. The needle was broken. “If you wanted a compass, we could get you one that works. This looks like a keepsake that Fernson should have.”

“Well, he lost it the first day we left and he was sick about it. We spent the next two days retracing our steps to find it. It was fun, actually, we found all kinds of bugs and mushrooms while we sifted around in the underbrush.” The boy mused.

She stepped into the light of the window and held it close to her eye to examine the etching.

“When we found it snagged on a tree branch, he showed it to me - do you see the leaves carved around the edge? I asked why he kept a broken compass, or why he didn’t get it fixed. He said it’s better this way–it reminds him of younger years where he’d ‘follow a whim instead of a path’ I guess.” As we were finishing the journey I asked him how a curio could carry such weight. He simply answered, “A thing held by one may hold stories from many.”

His mom handed the watch back, and smiled at him.

“I told him about my lucky jade carving. And he said to keep those small things close–– ‘A watch, or a tin, or a pin made of gold. A thing to remember the stories you hold.’ he told me”

His mother looked in his bag again, and was happy to see a collection of tools and curios… she knew he had a good understanding of what’s important. She packed an extra shirt and warm socks for good measure.

As we conclude this tale, it's fascinating to ponder the profound meaning infused within everyday objects. Each curio carries with it a multitude of stories, representing the diverse tapestry of human experiences. I wonder how objects can become so infused with meaning. I wonder about all the people we meet and how they shape us. I wonder about the places we go. What are the trinkets people have in their pockets that clink and jangle as they walk? Everyone has a story and each story holds a lifetime.

These stories, shared among friends and strangers alike, shape our journey through life and imbue it with richness and depth. So here's to the companionship of friends, to the curios we collect along the way, and to the enduring value of the seemingly insignificant. In a world brimming with stories waiting to be told, may we never cease to appreciate the significance of the small things. Cheers!

Words By: Cole Casper

What's in a name? Curio Sour Ale

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