
Ahh, Spring has sprung! Cherry blossoms are sprouting into bloom, the weather is giving some of us a bit of relief (looking at you, allergies). But there is also the other side—the, uh, spring cleaning side. I’m talking pipe herd spring cleaning, of course.
Over the years, the herd has become unruly and very inconsiderate. Pipes seem to arrive and begin elbowing for a spot in the numerous pipe rack stalls.
So, I began a long journey this current spring to shoo away the unwanted, weed out the ugly growths, and start afresh.
Dear friends, there are hundreds in the herd! See, Pundit began his pipe smoking journey and pursuit of happy hobby hunting in college.
I admired my pipe-puffing erudite English Lit professors, the fuzzy history profs, and pomp and circumstance philosopher profs, one of whom entered the classroom, smoking a pipe and reciting “ Sic Parvis Magna,” or another of his favorite Latin phrases.
I always loved hearing that prof walking in from the back of the classroom and spouting over his clenched pipe, that Latin phrase “greatness from small beginnings.”
What wasn’t so much fun arrived at the end of a year-long study of Shakespeare. The Shakespearean scholar teaching the class penned a note at the end of the single exam we had all year, “Deus vobiscum,” God be with you.
English Lit majors had to make a B or higher on the exam in order not to repeat the year-long study of The Bard. I was in my senior year, as were most of the Lit majors. Repeating the year was not the best of outcomes.
I digress.
Back to the herd. In all my searching, I always wanted to find an estate pipe carved and created (ahem, like me, of course) in my birth year. Now, we won’t go into the actual birth date itself, but let’s just say it ranges around World War II.
I never found that estate pipe, but the herd is full of old and dated versions around that birth year. Some very new herd additions help ease that search.
There are so many old memories and stories surrounding the ancients, though. One quick one for you.
This happened on a beautiful catch-and-release Ozark Mountain river stream along the Missouri and Arkansas border. The stream was one of those mystical waters.
Mists floating off the morning current whets the imagination in anticipation of mayflies or caddisflies emerging from larvae to pupae, rising to the surface, drying its wings and taking flight in a new form, promising me greatness from their small beginnings.
I was enjoying my pipe, casting for wild trout when I heard a shout behind me. It originated from a rock-dimpled canoe. A large bearded fellow slapped the paddle beside me as the entourage of two bearded guys and two bathing suit clad ladies floated by.
The loud smack on the water scattered the trout, ending fly fishing on that stretch. Time to retreat.
As I slowly backed upstream, keeping an eye on the dented canoe, it crunched ashore on a nearby sandy stretch. The bearded guy in front got out and as one of the ladies was emerging, he snatched off the top of her bathing suit.
I sped up my retreat as the shouting began. In the melee, I dropped my pipe into the stream, but quickly retrieved it with my fishing net.
Pipes always produce the best memories and stories.
Pipe Smokers of the Past:
Albert Einstein, Mr. E=mc2 was born March 14, 1879, and died April 18, 1955. He was a celebrated theoretical physicist and pipe smoker, and seldom seen without his pipe and puffy plumes of Revelation tobacco floating above his bristly bushy head of hair.
I never think of the future. It comes soon enough—Albert Einstein
Albert King, Mississippi blues man, and guitar master, was born in Indianola, Miss., April 25, 1923, and died Dec. 21, 1992, in Memphis, Tenn.
He was known as “King of the Blues Guitar,” and sometimes, “King of the Pipe,” since he often smoked his pipe while playing a blues gig.
Rose Kiser has an excellent biography of King and his love of pipes in a Nov. 10, 2023, Pipe Line column at SmokingPipes.com.
A quote from one of his blues songs:
All your loneliness I’ll try to soothe, I’ll play the blues for you—Albert King, “I’ll Play the Blues for You”.
A parting shot: Pipes provide us with fond farewells in our memory. They have been friends and family, there for all the happy times as well as the difficult days, as we all experience. It’s sad to see some leave the fold, but there are fresh rose-tipped horizons to be seen with a new kid joining the beloved herd.

L-R: Georgetown Tobacco, Washington, D.C., Imported Briar; Kaywoodie Standard, Royal Lane Canadian Photo: Fred Brown