K B Youngblood was a young business man in Humansville in the early 1970’s, and he had things other common hillbillies either could not afford, or refused to spend their money on.
One of those luxuries was a huge Danish freehand pipe, amd I wanted one some kind of bad, watching him smoke it, I surely did. His tobacco wasn’t Prince Albert or Velvet, either, it smelled like candy of different flavors, in the new A frame cafe he’d opened not far from Humansville High School. K.B said his pipes were Nordings, that cost $35, and he bought them at pipe shops in Kansas City.
K B sold his cafe and moved away, and I grew up and graduated and attended college in Kansas City. While at college the kids in the dormitory threw a big barn dance party, and at that party I won a country dance contest, which wasn’t too difficult me being about the only genuine country boy there that could two step, waltz, do a barroom shuffle and clog dance stomp.
After I’d won the dance contest a girl came to my table and said her friend would like to dance with me, and I looked over and her friend looked like a cross between a young Natalie Wood and a young Emmylou Harrris. Yes indeed, I said I’d dance with her friend.
After we’d danced she asked where o was from, and I said Humansville, and she was from Nevada, Missouri. My father was deceased I said, but he was a dairy farmer, and we still owned the farm. I asked what her father did, and she said he owned banks. Plural banks. As in a dozen banks.
This fair creature became my girlfriend, and soon I was on the Plaza buying us lunch at Dairy Queen, and as fate would have it the DQ was owned by K B Youngblood, who admired my new girlfriend, and we sat at a table and she admired his big Danish freehand.
Afterwards I walked right over to the pipe shop KB directed us and my girlfriend picked out me, a nice Nording pipe.
I was relieved that it was not more than forty dollars, because buying that Grade 3 Nording nearly took all the money I had, but I did get away with it, and it didn’t bust me. I even bought some candy flavored tobacco to smoke waking around the Plaza, with her.
Is a big Danish freehand a status symbol?
I think it was more like required equipment if you wanted to date a rich banker’s daughter during the 1970s.
I’m not complaining, but you’d better leave those bib overalls and Dr Grabows back at the farm, if you want a rich girl to sport around.
FOURTEEN KARAT MIND