Life’s Meaning Through Our Pipes
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Fred Brown - May 7, 2019
- 5 min read
Fred Brown
There are times, it seems to me when old lessons are the very best teachers. Like hard knocks. They just keep on tapping.
For example, listen to a few hoary catchphrases I created, found, or edited just a bit:
“If a thing can whip you, it will;
“Start out like you can old hold out. . . to the end;
“If you can’t explain something in simple terms, you don’t understand it well enough (with apologies to Mr. Einstein);
“Politicians are like the weather: you can complain about it or change channels;
“Never tell a man you don’t like his dog. He might bite you;
“There are three things in life that are worth every penny: a loving wife, a good pipe and a dog;”
It has been my experience that you can trust a man or woman who smokes a pipe. Who else has that kind of patience, but a trustworthy person?
“Tobacco these days seems to have collected a lot of enemies. My theory is to just wait it out and pack a bowl instead of your bags;
“It pays to know yourself before speaking out;
“Flying high is fun until the wind stops;
“Details are in the fine print, but the message is often writ large;
And finally:
“Often a curve will straighten your course.”
I have run through many phases in my years of smoking a pipe.
There was a time when I smoked nothing but aromatic tobacco. Loved it and couldn’t get enough. Like a kid in an ice cream parlor wanting a lick of every flavor.
Then came the English blend discovery. It was like crossing the London Bridge and seeing Big Ben.
I smoked English blends until my tongue was part Latakia and Turkish leaf and I was spouting Shakespearean quotes.
Next came straight Virginia. My life changed after trying Samuel Gawith’s 1792 Flake. I thought I had swallowed a frog.
Mind you, I have eaten and still love fried frog legs (it’s a Southern thing), but this was far, far different.
My here-to-fore stainless steel stomach rejected my entire morning and noon meals.
You get the drift.
It was a good while before I tried Virginias again. But, being dedicated and stubborn, back to the Virginias I turned, this time to Astley’s sublime No. 44 Dark Virginia Flake.
And then, I fell in love with McClelland’s Virginia tobacco, ketchup fumes and all. Oh, lordy, was that great Virginia tobacco!
Then I arrived at the Virginia and Perique phase, followed by Burley and Perique chapter.
For a while there, I didn’t know whether I was a Va/Per or a Bur/Per.
Yes, the pun is very much intended.
Mind you, all this tobacco experimentation took more than four decades.
I never kept a tobacco tasting notebook but should have. I recommend that to young pipe smokers, because not only do your tastes change but so does your attitude toward certain blends and brands.
As you can see, my tastes have been all over the tobacco map.
But I have found certain manufacturers and blenders I know I can depend upon to “get it right.”
Mythical blender G.L. Pease quickly comes to mind. The legendary Russ Ouellette is a master. Expert blender Joe Lankford of Seattle Pipe Club fame is another artist of tobacco chemistry.
You must add Jeremy Reeves, head blender at Cornell & Diehl, part of the Laudisi-SmokingPipes.com talented pipes and tobaccosmiths.
As for manufacturers, I still believe we are in the heyday of singular producers of the leaf.
You must go no farther than the tobacco discussion on the Pipesmagazine.com forum to find the best in the business.
Start with Cornell & Diehl, Lane, Gawith and Hogarth, Samuel Gawith, Pipes and Cigars, Esoterica, Kohlhase & Kopp, Iwan Reis, Rattray’s, Fribourg & Treyer, Mac Baren, Peter Stokkebye, Sutliff, Wilke Pipe Tobacco, and on and on as far as the eye can see.
Thankfully, for as long as it lasts, I believe we are in a tobacco blending and manufacturing renaissance, an age of tobacco enlightenment if you will.
Returning to aromatic tobacco, I have begun to revisit my beginnings in pipe smoking.
This does not mean I have forsaken Virginias, English blends, Virginia and perique or Burley and perique.
I mix and match a great deal now. Or I simply strike out on an English kick, a pleasurable Virginia, or straight Burley run.
And in changing blends as much as I do in a pipe-smoking day, I have also learned to monitor my puffing pace.
Slowing down has given me the holy grail of tobacco tastes. I pull my lips back from the stem and sip the smoke.
Try that one day. You will be surprised, I think, as I. You will taste the blender’s secrets in that intermingling of rich leaf variety.
My attitude has changed as I try to understand my smoking self.
I no longer smoke as if this could be my last. I savor the flavors of the blends.
And like most of you, I have come to value my pipes in a way that a man loves his dog.
My pipe is a faithful companion. I am always gratified when I strike a match to a bowl and sift through the various smells and tastes.
And my pipes act as a brake on the stresses of my day.
I slow down and breathe, letting creamy smoke cover me in blessed silence.
Certain of my pipes are irreplaceable in terms of what they mean to me, what they do for me, how they comfort me.
These are not just chunks of wood pulled from the earth and fashioned into bowls.
No. My pipes are precious pieces of art, that fill my life with joy and a sense of accomplishment.
I feel as if I have climbed the mountain and have seen the break of dawn, the early light creeping over the rim of ancient lands.
Pipe smoking has given me a perspective on life that I would not have had otherwise.
We are who we are. I think; therefore, I am a pipe smoker, with apologies to Rene Descartes.
One of my favorite quotes is from the French existentialist, John-Paul Sartre:
“Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does. It is up to you to give life meaning.”
We are pipe smokers. Therefore, we give ourselves meaning through our pipes.
A pipe is not just a pipe. It is life itself.
 Fred Brown is a journalist who lives in Knoxville, TN. He will write this column for PipesMagazine.com monthly. He can be contacted at tennwriter@bellsouth.net. |
Written by Fred Brown
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Ok, so it’s that time of year, as we all know. Family feasts, houses, yards, and big trees festooned with lights and dangling ornaments, just high enough to keep the cats from reaching a paw into the greenery. It’s also the time of year when your pipe-smoking-significant other makes vast hints about a new pipe. That’s to be expected since he or she was a good boy or girl during the year. Yes, ladies smoke pipes, too. Oh, you want an example? Okay, try Actress Greta Garbo, Millicent Fenwick, Mary Frith, and my late grandmother (who died when she was 93) dipped snuff and smoked a cob occasionally. So now that we have settled that the gentler side of life will puff a pipe too, let’s move on to the upcoming biggest holiday of all. Of course, that huge event is brought to us by the hefty fellow in a red suit, puffing his pipe all the way in a sled filled with presents, being led by a reindeer with a red nose. Or some such. That’s Santa Claus, of course. Becoming a bit more serious, Christmas is such a wonderful time for families and friends. It’s also quite special for pipe puffers. For many of us, this brings up a nostalgic look back to our pipe-smoking or cigar-smoking friends who have died during the current year. A great journalist pal whom I often joined in a local brick-and-mortar pipe and cigar shop. I puffed my pipe, and occasional cigar, as he enjoyed a cigar. He died in October and will be missed. On the happier side of things, Christmas is also a time when mind workers of the world renew their collections with fresh additions. Pundit included. A French passion has overtaken Pundit, from reading more Albert Camus, a heavy cigarette smoker, as were many French intellectuals of a certain time. Instead of cigarettes many of us prefer the more relaxed enjoyment of pipes for that “calm and objective judgment” in the comings and goings of the world. This brings me to French pipes. While visiting France once in the long ago, I happened by a “Tabac” shop in Paris, Tabac Des Vosges. I purchased a beauty of a Chacom bent. I also later bought a Ropp made from ancient briar. To learn more about the dawn of briar pipes and beginnings, take a peek at a well-done piece by Davin Hylton in Pipe Line on April 12, 2023, on Saint-Claude, France, the birthplace of briar. Also in the long back when, on a cold Christmas afternoon, Pundit wandered into an Atlanta bricks and mortar pipe shop to look around. There, resting in an enclosed glass counter was an exquisite Comoy. An older gent, smoking a beautiful bent, asked me if I wanted to look at that pipe. It had a $100 price tag. A college student working for a grocery store chain to help with college tuition at the time, Pundit didn’t have one hundred cents, let alone a C note! I declined and found a $5 basket pipe. A Christmas tradition had just begun. Since that early time, Pundit has made it a holiday ritual to either reward himself, or a special friend, with pipe or tobacco. A Claudio Cavicchi would be nice. Just sayin.’ And now for a couple of December-born Pipe Smokers of the Past: Joseph Rudyard Kipling was born on Dec. 30, 1865, and died on Jan. 18, 1936. I always prefer to believe the best of everybody; it saves so much trouble—Rudyard Kipling. Martin Van Buren, born Dec. 5, 1782, and died July 24, 1862, U.S. President, 1837-1841 As to the presidency, the two happiest days of my life were those of my entrance upon the office and my surrender of it—Martin Van Buren. And one more note to recall a deceased World War II veteran who loved William Somerset Maugham, the author. Maugham, a pipe smoker, was born in Paris, France, on Jan. 25, 1874, and died on Dec. 16, 1965. One cool afternoon as the veteran and I talked while sitting in his backyard patio, he looked off into the distance as if studying something. Nothing in particular. Just looking. He turned to me and said if I wanted to learn about life, “read Somerset Maugham.” I did. It wasn’t until late in life that I discovered how easy it is to say, ‘I don’t know’ –W. Somerset Maugham And now a Parting Shot: Any day with an old friend with pipes and tobacco is a good day.
Amen Fred. Well said
Excellent read! I love your way with words.