A fond childhood memory: sitting with my grandfather and watching as he blew smoke rings off into the majestic summer sky.
I grew up prejudiced towards smoking and smokers, my mother is quite intolerant of these sorts of things and it rubbed off.
But still, cigars had a draw. It seemed like real men smoked them, succesful fellas with a fondness for life and a good idea of how to live it.
It never occurred to me to buy myself a cigar, not until a few weeks before my 22nd birthday. I was unhappy and decided a smoke might be a nice change of pace. Took a walk to the local B&M, bought a house special and a Nat Sherman Host. Fell in love immediately.
Up till then I had always taught myself how to do things. I learned how to weld and how to work with glass all by myself. Cigars shouldn't be any different. Right?
Over the past year I've had fewer than 100 smokes, some good, some amazing, and others not so great. Smoked indoors and out, while snow fell and sun beamed. But I always smoked alone.
A few weeks ago I attended a cigar event at that nearby B&M as a vendor, hocking my glass and steel amidst the smoke and comraderie of 200 cigar fanatics.
I realize now that you can't just smoke alone. Sure, the late night stogie is a hermit's delight, and a hermit I am. I love watching the smoke filter through my workshop and curl around my tools while tasting my cigar and hearing the world fall asleep around me. But that's the pepper, not the steak.
I must have forgotten. Watching my grandfather blowing smoke rings, he was sharing that cigar, that moment with me.
Now, I'm tired and my general lack of communication with folks outside of my own brain isn't making the words fall out any easier. The point is, whether you're online or in the chair next to me, you wingnuts make my cigars a little better. Thanks for sticking together folks. Keep smoking!
