I only quit cigarettes recently, so I still get cravings for them sometimes, but I can pull through them. I'm not really worried though, the cravings are gonna last until I get my pipe.
"Age Limit" for Pipe Smoking?
- Thread starter charliejeffy
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First time I fired a pipe up I was maybe 12 or 13. I had been watching my Uncle smoke pipes my whole life, and it just seemed natural that I would do it as well. I didn't have a fecking clue what I was doing. Unfortunately, cigarettes came into the fold and I didn't pick the pipe back up until my early 20's. It was always second fiddle to the cancer sticks though. These days, I will smoke a couple cigs when time is crunched, but pipes are in the front seat now. Cigars popped up somewhere in there and I keep a full humidor as well, but seldom indulge.
I was 18 and right out of high school. My girlfriend took me to a local Tinder Box, bought me a nice "Verona" pipe and four ounces of Crown Royale tobacco. How could I not marry her after that? That was 42 years ago.
I was 10. Back in those days (early 70s), smoking was definitely frowned on. The connection between disease and smoking had long been assumed, but in the late 60s or so, they were discovering and proving the mechanism. Still... it wasn't anything like today. I got them from my 9-year-old friend whose mother had gotten him his own account at the corner store: Eddies Grocery. (That's another thing that was already on the decline, the corner grocery store, their smells, the ancient wooden floors worn into solid waves from steady foot traffic over the years, the smell of the little butcher counter where you watched the man saw and chop your dad's steak for that evening, or the choice of ground chuck, ground round, ground... whatever you wanted, and the smells of the sausage he was making that day.... Cigarettes were something like 50cents a pack, cartons were $4-something. By the end of the 70s, they were $10/carton. (When I quit them in the early 80s, they were $12.50/carton).
So most of my cigarettes were "bummed" to me for that kid. And my dad looked the other way. He was a heavy smoker and his philosophy was, "They're your lungs. Make up your own mind."
My mom put her foot down one day, drawing the line with my dad: "Brad! I will not have Joey smoking cigarettes in this house!"
He was a taciturn man. He said nothing. He didn't look back at her. Just a little grin, just a twitch.
It wasn't quite my birthday yet (the year before, on my 9th birthday, I had gotten a paperback copy of "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," and I had fallen in love with it, since we, too, lived close to a major river, and I spent much, much time on its banks, sometimes *in* its water, and some of those times, on purpose).
But... with about a week to go until my birthday, he got me an early birthday present, sitting it on the table for me to open as he sat down for my brother and sister to undo his laces and help him with his boots off (a ritual itself: we'd straddled his leg, butt toward him, hugging his boot, and he'd use his other foot to gently shove against our butts till his old work boots came off).
I opened it, him smiling at me, looking up devilishly at my mom now and then, then broke out into a wide smile full of teeth, mirthful sparkles flashing in his coffee eyes, as I pulled out a new Grabow and apple-flavored tobacco. I don't know what it was, but after that, I would put a slice of apple in my pouch, hoping for that flavor again. Never quite worked. Just made a really gross slice of apple.
My mom hissed, realizing he had played around her protest of the day or so before.
In those days I smoked cigarettes and pipes, through high school. I began smoking Pall Malls because that's what my dad smoked, and the ban against my smoking in the house eventually fizzled out. At school, I would write myself hall passes to practice in the band room (my signature was similar to the band instructor's, and I had taken a couple decks with hundreds of blank passes each), but I'd just go out the back door to my pickup, stand there enjoying a pipe throughout the study hall period. Other kids thought I was odd, but... cool. I liked that, but... mostly I never cared, since I had gone out to be alone, not to impress onlookers.
While I was raising my children, I stopped smoking altogether. Couldn't stand the thought that those brand new little pink lungs were taking in smoke from me.
A few years ago I picked up where I left off, my kids long since grown and on there own. It felt like coming home. It felt like me again. I don't need to smoke. I probably shouldn't smoke. Well, I KNOW better than to smoke. It's dumb. It's stupid. It's a totally unnecessary risk. And if I do trigger the diseases it's associated with, it's not so much I lose *my* bet; it's that I've bet against those who will bear the costs of this gamble.
There are no excuses for doing it at my age. But at my age, I don't need excuses. I recognize the selfishness of this indulgence and own it for that.
There's no age-limit for that.
So most of my cigarettes were "bummed" to me for that kid. And my dad looked the other way. He was a heavy smoker and his philosophy was, "They're your lungs. Make up your own mind."
My mom put her foot down one day, drawing the line with my dad: "Brad! I will not have Joey smoking cigarettes in this house!"
He was a taciturn man. He said nothing. He didn't look back at her. Just a little grin, just a twitch.
It wasn't quite my birthday yet (the year before, on my 9th birthday, I had gotten a paperback copy of "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," and I had fallen in love with it, since we, too, lived close to a major river, and I spent much, much time on its banks, sometimes *in* its water, and some of those times, on purpose).
But... with about a week to go until my birthday, he got me an early birthday present, sitting it on the table for me to open as he sat down for my brother and sister to undo his laces and help him with his boots off (a ritual itself: we'd straddled his leg, butt toward him, hugging his boot, and he'd use his other foot to gently shove against our butts till his old work boots came off).
I opened it, him smiling at me, looking up devilishly at my mom now and then, then broke out into a wide smile full of teeth, mirthful sparkles flashing in his coffee eyes, as I pulled out a new Grabow and apple-flavored tobacco. I don't know what it was, but after that, I would put a slice of apple in my pouch, hoping for that flavor again. Never quite worked. Just made a really gross slice of apple.
My mom hissed, realizing he had played around her protest of the day or so before.
In those days I smoked cigarettes and pipes, through high school. I began smoking Pall Malls because that's what my dad smoked, and the ban against my smoking in the house eventually fizzled out. At school, I would write myself hall passes to practice in the band room (my signature was similar to the band instructor's, and I had taken a couple decks with hundreds of blank passes each), but I'd just go out the back door to my pickup, stand there enjoying a pipe throughout the study hall period. Other kids thought I was odd, but... cool. I liked that, but... mostly I never cared, since I had gone out to be alone, not to impress onlookers.
While I was raising my children, I stopped smoking altogether. Couldn't stand the thought that those brand new little pink lungs were taking in smoke from me.
A few years ago I picked up where I left off, my kids long since grown and on there own. It felt like coming home. It felt like me again. I don't need to smoke. I probably shouldn't smoke. Well, I KNOW better than to smoke. It's dumb. It's stupid. It's a totally unnecessary risk. And if I do trigger the diseases it's associated with, it's not so much I lose *my* bet; it's that I've bet against those who will bear the costs of this gamble.
There are no excuses for doing it at my age. But at my age, I don't need excuses. I recognize the selfishness of this indulgence and own it for that.
There's no age-limit for that.
I started with cigars when I was 18(still have an extensive humidor) but my girlfriend now wife didn't like cigars. We were at the Tobacco shop in Gatlinburg Tn she offered to buy me one of their pipe kits. Smoke for 5-6 years then I fell off of a few years once my son was born 5 years ago just really started back 2 years ago.
I started at 22, never smoked any cigarettes. I found that smoking a pipe really makes me calm and helps me concentrate on writing my university papers and stuff.
I smoked cigars on special occasions when I was 17, my dad has a lot of cigars and me and him would smoke sometimes, don't know if the last name has anything to do with it because it is castro, but i left the cigars when a friend of mine introduced me to pipe and pipe tobacco like 4 months ago .
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Thread title fixed.
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Thread title fixed.
Please see rule 9 here along with the rest of the forum rules
Thanks!
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