Grandpa's Pipe

[puffy]

My grandfather was born in 1880.When he was an old man and I was 9 or 10 years old.I would sit on a river bank with him and fish.When he wasn't catching a fish or eating a hotdog he would smoke his pipe and tell me stories of what life was like before electricity,and cars.He smoked Prince Albert.He said his pipe was a Yellow Bowl.I didn't understand that.It looked brown to me.It's really hard to believe but this year makes 50 years since he passed away.I've always wished that I could sit and smoke a bowl of Prince Albert in his pipe.It's not to be though.No-one seems to know what happened to it.That doesn't dimish my memory of a true friend though.The first pipe smoker I ever knew.

 

[ravkesef]

Beautiful story, Puffy. Sounds like the two of you were lucky to have each other.

 

[ddavid]

Awesome story Puffy, it makes me realize how lucky I am to own my great-grandfathers corncob from my dad's side of my family and that my grandpa is going to give me my great grandfathers small pipe collection from my mom's side of the family. I hope that one day your grandfather's pipe turns up and you can relive those memories and maybe make new ones!

 

[natenice1]

I wish I could post pics. That is a great story! A trip to NYC in the 1940's my mother and my grandparents went by train from Newburgh, NY to see the Christmas show his present from him to him was an E. Wilke billiard not perfect grain but his Sunday pipe until he passed in 1997 at 87! I have it and a penchant for P&W tobacco and pipes! Daily was cobs and Liberty then Half & Half and Sundays were Granger or Velvet! :D

 

[carlweis]

I envy all of you with great grandparents, mine were not so great. I do have my fiancee's papa who I have adopted as my grandad. I have the luxury of time so I sit with him for hours on the back porch while he smokes his cigars and we tell war stories to eachother and bitch about the president lol. I found you can't hope a zebra will change its stripes, but through the grace of God you can end up with real friend. It's hard to find a plain talking person whos a straight shooter nowadays. So many people seem to have some hidden agenda even in friendships. He's getting on up there and I will surely miss him when he's gone. It's worth the 2 1/2 hr drive. He is more family to me than my grandparents were to me. Since he was in the navy he cusses like a sailor lol. So we get along great LOL.

 

[tuold]

To me, this is what pipe collecting all about. I have my grandfather's pipes (my siblings thought they were yucky) and his last canister of Prince Albert still 3/4 full. He was a pipe fitter and worked in the oil fields of Bakersfield, California. He was a hard-working man and smoked working men's pipes and tobacco usually while watching a baseball game on TV and listening to another on the radio. He was a staunch Democrat, union man and Freemason. In short, he was all things I'm not. Maybe that's why I admire him so much! I'll never forget him.

 

[newbroom]

My Grandfather on Mom's side was a big, rough, tough, gruff, hard drinking, hard working, cut plug smokin Irish immigrant who loved to play a card game called 45's. He loved to laugh from his heels and his heart which was what took him at the end. (heart problems) He'd raised 13 by then. I can recall when my favorite uncle was dating my mom's sister. He was a 5'6" second generation Italian. What a contrast. Uncles Joe (Julio), Jim, and Dick, who married Herb's daughters, had lots of wonderful stories about their own sense of intimidation and Gramp's huge presence. Gramp was 6'4", and spoke his mind.

 

[danielplainview]

Great memories guys. My grandfather got me into pipes as well. I remember when I was a small child, going to my grandparents house, and there papaw would be in his rocking chair, pipe in hand. I always loved the room note. I would open his tobacco jar and smell it. Borkum Riff was his brand. I have his pipe collection now and smoke them often.

 

[mso489]

You might want to dedicate a Yello-Bowl to your grandpa and smoke nothing but Prince Albert in it. They make

some good push bit briar pipes, nothing fancy but better as you break them in. I had a pipe smoking grandpa and

a cigar smoking grandpa. I was lucky to know all four of my grandparents, and for whatever reason, I took full

advantage of it, spent some time with each of them, especially my dad's mom and my mom's dad (the cigar smoker).

But my pipe grandpa was a very quiet man, always wore a suit, and I remember a trip down to his old real estate office,

windowless with a skylight, in an office building his family owned in a the downtown of a Chicago suburb. I inherited,

through my dad, his ten-pipe rack with amber glass tobacco jar, that sat beside his chair in the informal living room --

they actually had a front parlor. It's important to remember what a powerful role grandparents can have, in case you are

one, or become one. The stories of the family you tell, and the image you present, are a powerful signal about who a

child might become. I could go on (an on) about my grands, but I'll leave it there.

 

[gregprince]

My grandfather's pipes were disposed of by my clean living uncle, who turned out to be a bit of a weasel. Wish I could have gotten my hands on them.

 

[weezell]

What a weasel!

who turned out to be a bit of a weasel

YOU KILLIN ME GUYS! We ain't all bad... 8O

 

[crazypipe]

Great read , I wish my grandfather was here too

 

[ericthered]

Very cool, Puffy. It's really cool that you know what he smoked and what his pipe's brand was.
The memory of my grandfather is one of the primary reasons that led to me picking up the pipe. He was a solid, earthy WW2 vet of Slovak descent. During my early childhood he had a circular pipe rack with several briars on it located within easy reach of his lounge chair. At some point he decided to quit the pipes and went to chewing tobacco, but I will always remember him as a pipe smoker. I don't know what happened to his pipes and I don't know what his favorite brand/blend was, but every time I light a bowl he is not far from my thoughts.

 

[rwramsey]

Some of my oldest memories are of my grandfather. He was a caring and kind man who had a preference for Capt. Black and he never missed an episode of Gunsmoke.

 

[drwatson]

Great story! Odd thing is that my grandpa smoked a pipe, but I remember it used to gross me out cause he was a wet smoker. Meaning that the stem always seemed very wet. But I'm 99% positive that there is smoking allowed in heaven, so I'll get a chance someday to sit back with him again!

 

[huntertrw]

My maternal and paternal grandfathers were both pipe-smokers. The former passed six years before I was born, but from what my Mother has told me of him he is a man whom I KNOW I would have liked. My one tangible link to him is the fact that I possess one of his pipes, a KBB Yello-Bole Imperial which I am guessing is more than 60-years-old, which I smoke. When I do I feel a connection to him which is hard to describe, but visceral, in that I enjoy something which he also enjoyed. This is the closest thing to time-travel that I will ever experience, reaching back across the years to him through his pipe.
Sadly, I have none of my paternal grandfather's pipes. I'm certain they were thrown away after he died, of value to no one but me who was much too young (at 11-years-old) to have asked for them. He smoked Half and Half, and (as most of you probably already know) it has a VERY distinctive aroma which tends to taint both pipe and room. I recall having occasion to visit Grandpa's old house years after he died, during a period when it was vacant, and could still smell the lingering delightful aroma of that blend. The experience was powerful and reduced me to tears, for although the house was empty he was still there.

 

[mcitinner1]

I grew up in 50's and 60's when pipes were so popular as we all know. Mom's dad worked his own saw mills all his life. He dragged me around with him when I could 'help'. I have cut fire wood all my adult life so far. Dad's dad farmed his whole life, with help from 12 kids. I helped bale hay every summer, first by driving the flat bed stake truck in the fields when I was nine years old. I've gardened most of my life. Some how neither grampa ever smoked. Most of their kids did. I often think of them both while I'm smoking a bowl. I still remember how they even smelled, one of wood, the other of soil. Good times.