My grandpa was a pipe smoker, and he was certainly one of the "influencers" who turned me on to the briar. I was probably only eight or nine years old when I decided I would definitely become a pipe smoker. I loved and admired my grandpa, and I always associated him with the aroma of Sir Walter Raleigh and Amphora, which I could never get enough of. An especially fond memory: My grandpa and a handful of his friends would get together for coffee and socializing two or three days a week: He and one of his good friends always had their fragrant pipes with them. He didn't directly instruct me (not in the beginning, at least), but I learned a lot about technique from him and his pipe-smoking friends through careful observation. By my early teens, I was pretty sure that all that observation had prepared me to smoke a pipe as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
When my dad went through a pipe-smoking phase, encouraged by my grandpa (his dad), I just couldn't wait any longer to try smoking a pipe myself, even though I was only 15. I tried smoking a bowl of SWR in one of my dad's pipes in the garage while no one was home. Predictably, I had a hard time keeping the pipe lit, despite my years of careful observation.
It took some practice applying my grandpa's technique, but I gradually got the hang of it. I learned to like it well enough to stick with it. I realized I shouldn't be borrowing my dad's pipe and making off with my grandpa's tobacco all the time. Until I turned 18 and went to college, I smoked Amphora and SWR in a Medico and a Dr. G in secret, sometimes with a high school friend of mine.
Soon after my 18th birthday, I went to the pipe shop to buy my first legit pipe, I picked out a classic smooth billiard with a saddle stem, with the help of the shop guy who had regularly sold tobacco and pipe supplies to my grandpa. He didn't seem to recognize me, even though I had spent
hours in that place with my grandpa and my dad, hovering longingly over the pipes and tobacco jars. I remember the little lesson he gave me as I broke in my new pipe. It turned out that my observational skills had partly failed, so the shop guy offered a little guidance about packing and clean-up.
When I showed off my new pipe to my grandpa, he winked and mentioned he had a hunch I was keen on pipes. He said he'd have given me a pipe to smoke a few years earlier, but he thought my grandma would take a dim view of the idea. Anyway, he passed on a couple of old-school Bing Crosby-style pipes, which I cleaned up and treasured. Around the same time, my official entry into the hobby got my dad back into pipes. Great memories!