A big "Thanks!" to Chas Clifton (linked below) for pointing out this wonderful essay. It is indeed a fading memory, and sadly so.
My own first use of tobacco was a pipe, back in the early seventies. It was a contemplative exercise - and yes, I would sometimes smoke other herbs (and inhale) in my pipes. But when I joined the Air Force the time and ceremony required to properly indulge in a pipe (no matter what filled it) disappeared, and my addiction to nicotine truly got going on cigarettes. To quote the essay:
Pipe smoking is going the way of the shaving brush, the straight razor, the fedora, the Freemasons, the liberal Republican.
and that's a real shame...
It smelled like cherry or chocolate or chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Or leaves burning in the back yard in those long-ago autumns when you were still allowed to burn leaves in the back yard. In those days, pipe smoke was a man's signature scent. It was the incense in the Church of Dad, a burnt offering to the god of domesticated masculinity, a symbol of benevolent paternalism.
(link) [Washington Post]
via Letter from Hardscrabble Creek
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