I like that the humble pipe tool can have sentimental value. It’s funny how things can take on a life of their own based on their association with people, or just plain old age. My son and I used to go metal detecting on an old Army training area and you’d be surprised how cool he thought it was to dig up old Vietnam-era C-ration cans. The local dump is full of old cans, but these were cool enough to clean off and take home to show his friends.
My pipe tamper is like that. I whittled it from a Willow twig in the mid-1990s (the moose chewed Willow trees in the photo below). My buddy was smoking cigars but I had a pipe and no tamper. It probably took a minute or so to make it, but it was a good shape and size, so it stayed in my fishing vest for years. Later it got stuffed in a tobacco pouch and traveled around the world with me. It’s tamped tobacco as far north as Barrow, Alaska and as far south as Stewart Island off the southern tip of New Zealand. For you WW2 historians, it’s been to Tarawa Atoll, Guadal Canal, Rabaul in Papua New Guinea and many other battle sites.
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These days it shares tamping duty with whatever small flashlight I happen to have in my pocket, but for whatever reason, I just don’t feel like tossing that old, worthless, charred chunk of Willow twig out.