My father smoked a pipe briefly, but I really never paid attention to him. He was more of a Winston man.
My uncles (mother's brothers) really took me under wing and taught me all the cool things, like hunting, fishing, cars, and I watched them smoke their pipes. And, then my grandfather's brothers, with their farmer ways of whittling, smoking pipes on the general store steps. After church, I was always running off with an uncle of sorts to go fishing, and they always were men of few words and pipes in the maws.
They never really set me down and showed me anything to do with pipes, but as kids do, I watched. I remember watching Uncle Leon sleeping in a folding chair on the porch with his pipe still a going for over an hour after dinner. Or, riding in a truck with Uncle Joe for two days for him to trade bird dogs, and him never speaking a word, just pipe in mouth, codger scoop, back in mouth, and over and over... and 18 hours in a truck with Johnny Cash, Kenny Rogers, and Donna Summer 8-tracks, three choices, that was it.
By the time I was struggling with quitting cigarettes and starting the pipe for myself, they had all passed, except one, and he had quit smoking. I never really thought of it as antiquated. I have always seen pipe smokers here. It is still not unusual for me to run into someone else smoking a pipe, we have quite a few small pipeshops here and then we have The Briary, mecca of pipe shops. Our mayor, fire marshal, and a few police officers smoke pipes. I visit daily with one old coot that smokes a pipe. I can't imagine being a pipesmoker today, isolated, feeling like the world doesn't want you. I imagine that would make me a bitter pipe guy too. If I wasn't here, where pipes and cigars are normal, I probably wouldn't smoke.
