My grandma Barb was a wonderful lady. She loved Duke & Louis, she was first to make the coffee and the martinis, and she held court with my grandpa at the kitchen table for hours after supper cleared.
Barb smoked Winstons, and one night exclaimed after dessert, "Why don't they make pipes for ladies!?!" See, she loved watching my dad, and grand-dad load their pipes and tuck into the evening conversation. Barb loved her pant suits and Estee Lauder perfume; but she knew she could do, and likely would do, anything that any of the men in her life would and could. She was elected to municipal office four times in her mid-Indiana town, and chaired the town's planning commission. My dad loved Barb, his step-mom to tell the truth (just don't tell either of them that), and heard her question as a request. So on a visit, much down the road, he presented this to Barb.
She hadn't forgotten her exclamation, and with glee opened the box. "It's so elegant!"
"And it's French!"
And my dad presented her with a pipe tool, and then took Barb to the tobacconist to find her tobacco. Given the burn on the front of the bowl, it appears that Barb had the same problem lighting a cutty that many do. But this just tells me that she loved, and used, this pipe.
My aunt, not knowing that I had come back to the briar, presented the pipe to my dad as she's cleaning out the last bit of Barb's estate. He, and she, passed it on to me last weekend. This all happened when I was crawling, but it's lovely to have the story and the pipe. I can't wait to clean her up. She's staying in my cabinet.
Cheers,
-- Pat
Barb smoked Winstons, and one night exclaimed after dessert, "Why don't they make pipes for ladies!?!" See, she loved watching my dad, and grand-dad load their pipes and tuck into the evening conversation. Barb loved her pant suits and Estee Lauder perfume; but she knew she could do, and likely would do, anything that any of the men in her life would and could. She was elected to municipal office four times in her mid-Indiana town, and chaired the town's planning commission. My dad loved Barb, his step-mom to tell the truth (just don't tell either of them that), and heard her question as a request. So on a visit, much down the road, he presented this to Barb.
She hadn't forgotten her exclamation, and with glee opened the box. "It's so elegant!"
"And it's French!"
And my dad presented her with a pipe tool, and then took Barb to the tobacconist to find her tobacco. Given the burn on the front of the bowl, it appears that Barb had the same problem lighting a cutty that many do. But this just tells me that she loved, and used, this pipe.
My aunt, not knowing that I had come back to the briar, presented the pipe to my dad as she's cleaning out the last bit of Barb's estate. He, and she, passed it on to me last weekend. This all happened when I was crawling, but it's lovely to have the story and the pipe. I can't wait to clean her up. She's staying in my cabinet.
Cheers,
-- Pat