The Stuff of Legend
    February 1st, 2011

By G. L. Pease
Memory tells me it was the summer of 1977 or 1978. Giants game at the ‘Stick. I was in the bleachers with a friend who didn’t smoke a pipe, and his brother, who did. When he lit up, the air was perfumed with an intoxicatingly fascinating aroma. Prior to that day, with a few exceptions, I hadn’t paid much attention to pipes. In high school, one of my favorite teachers puffed Borkum Riff whenever he was in his office, and when I was still younger, a friend of the family, who had an impressive collection of meerschaums, smoked aromatic tobaccos by the pound, and was always willing to talk about his pipes. Then, there was an obnoxiously vicious uncle who manically stunk up my aunt’s house with a pipe he never cleaned, filled with some vile weed that was more brimstone than tobacco, and with whom I would no sooner choose to talk about pipes than jump feet first into a cholera epidemic. And, of course, there was the occasional fleeting scent of the pipes of passers by on the occasions when they actually did pass by. But, mostly, I didn’t think much about pipes, or about pipe tobacco.

Read the rest of this entry »