There is such a thing as too few pipes.
Im not even going to try and prove it, but I have sure and certain faith that every pipe has a finite lifetime.
Think how awful we treat our pipes. We kindle smoldering fires in a piece of wood, up to several times each day.
Our briars aren’t lined with asbestos, they are an organic material, all made from a strange growth called a burl that only is found on the rocky shores of the Mediterranean on the roots of heath shrubs that must be a half century old, but the older the better.
It might be ten thousand times, or twenty thousand, but no matter how well we care for our pipes someday comes when they’ll gradually absorb enough oils from the wonderful tasting leaves we burn in them to where they’ll no longer be serviceable.
That assumes we don’t burn them out first or chew up the rubber stems, and doesn’t consider that each time we use one there’s a tiny bit of cosmetic abuse that occurs, that accumulates eventually to render our once glorious looking pipes old and worn, in our service.
But if a man will just buy say, a dozen good pipes a year, they can be used Star Grade Lees that average less than thirty dollars, or expressed another way a dollar a day for pipes, in a couple of decades he’ll own about twenty dozen beautiful pipes, and there’s no way he’ll live long enough to smoke any of them to death.
Then when the man finally lays down to sleep no more on this earth, his heirs will find his stash of pipes, all carefully kept and ready to smoke.
The average regular funeral these days is about $12,000, and a suitable stone several thousand more.
If the man owned a thousand Lee Star grades, his children would scarcely break even after they gave him a decent burial and erected a nice stone to mark his grave, after they paid all the postage for selling a thousand pipes.
Think of a Lee Star Grade as a thirty dollar investment, and you won’t feel guilty spending the children’s inheritance.
WHEN I WAKE UP TO SLEEP NO MORE