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Pipe stories anyone?

Discussion in 'Pipes' started by Tudorp, Dec 12, 2011.

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  1. Tudorp

    Tudorp Member

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    Not sure if you guys tell pipe war stories, and if so, where they are put yet. But I think it's fun to share old stories. This is one of my memories as a kid with a dad that smoked a pipe. Dad loved his pipes, and charrished them. He had 2 or 3 that were his favorites, and smoked all the time for many years, (two of which are now in my collection). Mom has always been very much a clean freak, in fact most would consider OCD today (that term was never heard of back in the day.. ). But anyway, Mom came home one afternoon from work and was on one of her many "cleaning sprees" she went through at least once or twice a week. This particular day she decided to clean "Dad's Area" which was his throne and domain that us kid's kept out of most the time. It was his sacred space. He had what we always called a "smoking table" that opened up and held his pipes, and supplies. Well, Mom decided to organize his table. She saw his dirty, smokey pipes, and thought they looked horrible and decided they needed a good cleaning. She picked and scraped years and years of cake out of them. She actually put them in the sink with soap and water and preceded to wash them. Hung them in the dish rack to dry and by the time Dad came home, his pipes were washed, cleaned, and polished and looked good as new. Mom was so proud that she had them on the top of his table displaying her hard work. Dad came home and looked on his table, and his eyes got as big as silver dollars as he bellowed, "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY PIPES?" Mom came out gloating how difficult it was to get all that crud out of them, and the care she took to be sure they got very clean for him.. Dad was horrified by the thought of decades of well earned cake, gone forever.. Not to mention the taste of dish soap when he lite one up later that evening... Even at a young age then, I knew the importance of the sacred cake that one earned from years of smoking a pipe, in fact, I loved the smell...
     
  2. ArtisanArcher

    ArtisanArcher Member

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    Note to self for future reference: Tell wife not to touch pipes under any circumstances.

    Great story!

    I had a pipe get ran over by a jeep one night... and it lived! :D

    Happy smoking
    Arty
     
  3. Tudorp

    Tudorp Member

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    My personal horror story I mentioned in another unrelated thread. Dad's horror was funny, (altho not as much to him). But this one of my own is sad. I was a young Sgt in the Air Force, and have always loved pipes because of my facination of Dad's in my youth. I was transfered to Germany and went crazy with some of the coolest pipes from all over Europe there, and very affordable. I started buying pipes and building my own collection. My 1st was a cool Meerschaum that I fell in love with. I didn't smoke in public, because I always thought seeing a young guy smoking a pipe looked "poser", so only smoked in the privacy of my home. I loved smoking my first meerschaum, and smoked it allot. My oldest son was born in 1983, the same year we were sent to Germany, and the year I bought this pipe. Fast forward more than 20 years. It is around 2007 or 2008, and my oldest son now off with a family of his own loved that meerschaum pipe. He had fond memories of playing with it as a toddler over the years. I carved in it years before "1983" the year I bought it, and promised it to my oldest son some day. He was happy to know he would get that pipe some day. By this time, it being my favorite smoker and had many miles on it by this time took on a beautiful carmel color from over 2 decades of smoking. One morning I looked over at the table next to my recliner to grab my favorite smoker. It was gone. I wondered, but just figured I laid it down somewhere so I picked up another favorite and lit it up. After a few hours, I started looking for my favorite meerschaum. I looked around on the floor thinking maybe it fell off the table. When I lifted my chair, to my horror, there was my pipe. Apparently, it fell into my recliner, and down into the mechanism of the chair. Spending several hours in my chair, it apparently got caught and chewed up by the mechanical parts of the recliner. It was crushed into way too many peices to count. I was almost reduced to tears. My son was very bummed when he learned of the fate of that pipe. But, I at least still have the stem..
     
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  4. user2428

    user2428 Active Member

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    That is what I am hoping for...something to pass down to my son besides my boyish charm and glaring handsomeness...

    Too bad about that schaum...I have a few things Ive collected over the years to pass down...hopefully he will value them the way I have. I have an old Browning Lever action .22 that my grandpops gave me. It was in mint condition then and remains that way to this day. He will have that one one day...

    Of course he will have my pipes as well, we all know that...:thu2:
     
  5. Tudorp

    Tudorp Member

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    I have plenty other pipes for my 3 sons and my daughter to share, Also some multi generation guns too, so it's not hopeless, but that one was special to my oldest. I know the one pipe I have that is probably the least valuable, is the most important to me. One I smoke allot myself which was my dad's and my grandpas before him though.. ;). Out of the Butz, GBDs and Petersons, that old so far 3rd gen Kaywoodie will be fought after the most, hahhah..
     
  6. dmkerr

    dmkerr PG- free since '83! Moderator

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    I lost a Ben Wade years ago in similar fashion (the good news that I hang my hat on is that it wasn't a Dunhill!).

    I left the pipe shop and placed my BW which was in its protective sock on top of my car. Forgot about it and left it there and then saw it fly off as I started driving. It landed in the street and I hurriedly got out to retrieve it, only to watch a semi flatten it. Thankfully it wasn't one of my favorites and, as an estate pipe, it was only about $40 (which would be about $100 today). Could have been much worse.
     
  7. user2428

    user2428 Active Member

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    Yeah I dont know what my 2nd and 3rd sons are gonna do...I guess fight Big brother for dads crap!! JK!!
     
  8. MakDragon

    MakDragon Wizard of PSF

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    My uncle is my inspiration for smoking a pipe. Although I never got to share a bowl with him as he passed about 10 years ago. He lived out of state for a brief period before that, so the local tie was loose for a while. During that time, I too thought I was a "poser" as younger people smoking in this area were usually not seen. Pity how that and distance prevented my favorite uncle from enjoying, not only a bowl of tobacco together, but countless hours of important conversation.
    When I first went to Ireland in 1988, I brought back 3 Peterson's. Knowing nothing of pipes and only buying them because of my Irish heritage (and they were beautiful!) I gave one to my uncle. I remember little of it except that it had a deep red finish, most likely a Killarney, and the band was a 3 ring colored in the colors of the Irish flag. It was a bent. The other was a Tawny meer in a yellow color. Beautiful color! The other was an Irish Second. Well, he was ecstatic as I let him pick the one he wanted and he chose the former. My aunt would later tell me that it cracked after considerable use and he was devastated and didnt want to tell me. So, one day, I gave him the Tawny. I wasnt smoking it and it made him smile! My uncle would pass about 10 years ago and my aunt moved to New England. Sometime after, I asked her if I could have one of his pipes. Part of me was hoping she would send the Tawny or the Killarney (even though it was broken). She would send me a white Kaywoodie with some serious miles on it. It even had the dottle from one of his last smokes!
    The funny thing about it was it was that particular pipe that I remember him smoking so often. It had to be his favorite pipe. My uncle also taught journalism for a local university and wrote for a local Sunday newspaper. In an old article he wrote that I found soon after I received the Kaywoodie, he talked about sitting with his dog and his white Kaywoodie, looking for inspiration for his weekly article.
    This is most likely the pipe I have in my possession. I cherish it deeply and it occupies the center of my pipe rack in my living room. Not once do I look at it without the sweet memories of my uncle, his magnificent life and opportunities lost for a bowl with him.
    My aunt was not the sentimental type, to her, she probably tossed all his other pipes in the garbage or gave them away to a rummage sale. So when she honored my request for a pipe, it most likely was a random selection. I can actually see her saying something like, "Oh this is rediculous, why does he want an old pipe"? Then reach into a drawer or an old box and proclaim, "Here's one, I'll just send it and be done".
    I would love to believe that my uncle chose that pipe for me and somehow directed her choice.
    Funny too is that all he smoked all those years was CBW! That's why even though I know better, I can say nothing disparaging about the Captain! and everytime I smell it in someone's pipe, I remember........
     
  9. Tudorp

    Tudorp Member

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    That's awesome, and I would also agree that he chose that pipe for you because that is the one you remember. Even as a young man, I did get to share a bowl several times with Dad. We used to sit together on the small lake that he owned a small house on. We would sit on the back porch smoke together, and count the turtle heads that stuck up from the lake. We spent some very relaxing evenings on his back porch while my kids played in and around the lake edge. Before he passed, he wasn't allowed to smoke any more and was not able to walk so Mom got her way with that. But we was laying in his bed, and out of the blue looked at me and said "Momma might smell smoke, but I bet she won't smell a beer..." lol.. His subtle way of telling me he wanted a beer. Dad rarely drank, but every now and then, we would drink a beer together watching a football game. Mom highly regulated anything and everything he ate or drank, because by that time, he wasn't expected to live more than a month. He was going down fast. Mom overheard him, and came running in telling me, "Don't you even think about it son, he can't drink in his condition...".. I stood up for him that day, and told Mom, "Mom, if Dad wants a beer, dammit, he's gonna get one. What can it do, kill him? Not much we can do to help him live much longer, but the little we have left I want him to have whatever he wants.. " She reluctantly gave me an approving nod along with "that look"... I ran out and got me and him a good import, and he laid there in bed with the biggest smile on his face as we drank our last beer together, even if it couldn't be a smoke. My dad passed away just a couple days later, and that last beer I wouldn't trade for 30 more years added to my life.
     
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  10. Tudorp

    Tudorp Member

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    Typo... "HE was laying in his bed.. Not "we".. that is kinda creepy.. lol
     
  11. user2428

    user2428 Active Member

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    Wow! Cant say I disagree at all with that! It also makes me think of guys who are less fortunate than us, living under bridges, begging for change and what not for a drink. Im not implying that your dad was a drunk or hobo, please dont take this story that way. My dad and I always said this: "Who are we to deny that poor guy a drink, nobody knows the sh!t that he goes through, so if a drink is what makes his life a little better, why not help him out!?!?"

    I guess what Im tryin to say is this: Who are we to regualte a dying mans last drink or smoke? The one thing that might make his time here peaceful? The same goes for the homeless guys...go buy em a $5 little ceasar pizza and tell him its all his, and heres $5 extra for a beer...knock yourself out...watch how fast they tear up...all this is from experience and from watching my dad...he is lots of things, and full of shortcomings, but he knows how to treat people who are less than fortunate.

    HE wasnt always there for me...but Im proud of my pops.
     
  12. Tudorp

    Tudorp Member

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    Yep, I have been very fortunate. Not in a monetary sence, but having the Dad I had. We was my Dad 1st, but the old man was also my best friend. He was one of those guys that anybody that ever met him loved the guy almost immediatly. He was one of those guys that would give the shirt of his back to a total stanger that didnt have a shirt.

    What you said, reminds me of when I was working in San Francisco, where you see pan handlers all over the place with sob stories. Some maybe true, others BS, but one that stood out to me, that I brought the guy a 6 pack read "Spare buck? I need a beer!!!". Honesty, always the best policy.. ;)
     
  13. MakDragon

    MakDragon Wizard of PSF

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    My Dad has been sick for over 4 years now. He suffered a ventricular fib with secondary brain anoxia. So Even though he is still with us, still responds, and tries like crazy to get better, the days of he and I sitting down and talking about the weeks events on Friday nights when we would go out for dinner are gone, barring a miracle. (Which I still pray for). But I would seriously consider that 30 year trade for one more day of my "Old Dad" and to talk about the last 4 years.
    That's why I try to live my life now in such a way that I dont jeopardize the possibility of seeing him again in the next life.
     
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  14. ruffinogoldswife

    ruffinogoldswife The Mayor's Wife

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  15. Old Ted

    Old Ted Active Member

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    Here is a tale that I have related before, so bear with me if you remember it - it's true, and a fond memory from a few years ago. Having taken early retirement several years ago, it is my regular 'job' to take Mrs. OT ( a non driver ) to her nursing duties, very early in the day, and then decide what to do with myself for the rest of it. Being a keen photographer, in warmer months I will often grab my camera bag and head for the moors and dales of North Yorkshire - about an hour or two from home.

    This particular spring Sunday morning found me in a pretty little village, with a Norman church surrounded by a well kept old graveyard. As I strolled around the still deserted lanes, looking for the best places to start shooting the church and grounds, I paused at the end of a row of old cottages and took out a large full-bent 'Northern Briar' that I had recently aquired from Greens at Leeds. A second 'Swan Vesta' had the St.Bruno flake simmering nicely, and I was at peace with the world. As I took the old Nikon F from my bag to attach a 'wide angle', I heard a movement behind, and turned to see a small lady - who I took to be in her eighties, she smiled as I said good morning - but had a tear in her eyes.

    It transpired that she had recently lost her husband of sixty years, and was now coming to terms with a life alone. Her husband had been a lifelong pipeman, and St.Bruno smoker, and it was the smell of my smoke - drifting into her garden that brought back the memories of him - tending his flowers and vegetables, and puffing on an old Barling billiard. Over a cup of tea, in that litte cottage kitchen, she pointed out the pipe - resting alongside an old oak tobacco jar, on a fireside shelf. As I strolled back towards the church - now with a few morning worshippers entering, I wondered if tobacco aromas would one day bring back memories of me.
    OT
     
  16. Tudorp

    Tudorp Member

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    Thats cool. And I can honestly say with full confidence that yes, pipe smells will bring back memories of you and all of us. It is proven that the sense of smell is VERY powerful, and completely linked to memory cells in the brain. The smells reminds me of my Dad, and my grand father. The reason I started collecting and smoking pipes myself. The smell brings me back to the inoscent time of my youth sitting on grandpas lap staring at his pipe and smoke trails. Brings me back to days I sat on the couch watching my dad relax in his chair with his pipe after a long hard day at work. My adult kids have memories already of my pipes and smells, and already bantering over who gets what pipe. My grand kids love to stick their faces in my tobacco canisters. I constantly see them when they are visiting holding one of my pipes smelling it. I never scold them for grabbing my pipes. I let them hold them all the time. The first thing they do is stick it up to their nose to smell them. They will keep those memories long after I am gone.
     
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  17. MakDragon

    MakDragon Wizard of PSF

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    You were the angel that visited her that day...............
     
  18. Old Ted

    Old Ted Active Member

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    thank you!......I've been called many things - but that's a first!;)
     
  19. voodoo101

    voodoo101 Member

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    I had a great Dad. He has been in Heaven for over 10 years. Dad smoked a pipe of Captain Black. I loved that smell and and that smell reminds me of him. So when I smoke a pipe and especially with Captain Black I get to visit with him awhile.
     
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  20. MakDragon

    MakDragon Wizard of PSF

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    I have so many times reminisced on this forum of my uncle and his one and only Captain Black White! Oh that smell!!!!!! It gets bashed to pieces here on this forum and with good reason, but sheesh! Can it take me back to my uncle!!!! I smoke it every hunting season in his honor!
     
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