I grew up with pipe smokers in the house and most of the men at family gatherings smoked pipes. My dad smoked a pipe, briefly. He was more of a Winston man, and besides the occasional stealing of tobacco out of the tobacco barn or rabbit weed smoked in a cob while playing Tom Sawyer on the river, I started off my smoking career with stolen Winstons.
A few years ago as I was setting with my dad in the nursing home, holding cigarettes for him as his cancerous lungs fought to get one last puff, I saw cigarettes in a new light. My own lung capacity was diminished from almost a half century of inhaling. My heart was not as stable as it used to be, and I was winded walking up steps. I do not hide my loathing for all things cigarettes. At least the kiddos today are getting the facts before they decide to enslave themselves. In my day, even doctors had bought into the Big Tobacco lies.
So, after years of trying the nic tabs, gum, hypnosis (turns out I can't be hypnotized), cold turkeys, gimmicks, and snake oils to try to quit smoking, I decided to give in. But, if I was going to do it, I wanted the less dangerous form of the tobacco.
I was going to just smoke one bowl a week to curb the tobacco cravings that shivered up my skin and overwhelmed my mind. One bowl a week, ha ha ha. What a stupid fist notion that was. As mentioned in another thread, how can someone learn how to pack well, or even know what blends that we like at that rate. I spent entire days, practicing, like someone learning to play the piano. And, when I got the process and ritual down to rote memory, I wanted to smoke as many blends as I could, rotating tobaccos throughout the day. Then on days off from work, I was excited to have the free time to smoke unabated. I found things that I could do while smoking. Even my job as jeweler, I put in an extra exhaust fan to be able to smoke while working. I set up a smoking room in my cabin, and mounted two pipe holders in my car.
Now, memories of my uncles come to mind, asleep on the front porch in a rocking chair with their pipe still in their mouth, and trickles of smoke coming out of their pipes. Shake awake when they suck ash. I cannot find a single picture of any of them without a pipe in their maw. It's just a part of me.
I run a couple of miles a day, and I do yoga with my girlfriend. yeh, I resisted at first. All I knew of yoga was that it made you enlightened, and I'd seen enlightened people in the parks, homeless and eating out of garbage cans. I didn't want to do yoga, because I didn't want to be disgusting, ha ha. But, it has helped me greatly in getting my health back. But, I still have a blood pressure issue, and I am cutting back my pipes a day to appease my doctor, who is straight forward and objective. I know some will say that there's no connection between blood pressure and nicotine, but when it comes to my life, I'll take the scientific approach over the toss of chicken bones and conjecture. I'm no fool. I can feel it.
Now, I've made most of my pipes, and I enjoy aged tobaccos, and I grow my own, which is way better than most of the blended, flavored stuff they call pure tobaccos. I know, this makes me a tobacco snob to most, but I do play with the Boones Farm variety tobaccos. I just prefer what appeals to my tongue the most, the finer wines of tobaccos. I come from do-it-yourself stock, where we all worked on our own cars and tractors, grew our own chickens, slaughtered our own pigs and goats. So, being self-sufficient in growing premium tobaccos and making the best pipes for myself just fits the way I was raised. I am down to four pipes a day. I don't see myself going below three, but those three will be awesome pure Virginias that I enjoy with enthusiasm.
So, that's my story. And, I do think that the pipe has made me healthier.
