By and large, I am not a big fan of selfies. A. I’m old and ugly. B. They seem so self-serving. But hey, people take a lot of them and seem to enjoy, so I’ll let you kids walk on my lawn without yelling too much. HOWEVER, you won’t have to go too far in my feed until you find a selfie I took with a cigar stuffed in my mouth. One adorns this page – taken last fall – a Perdomo Sun grown Habano, just in case you are curious.
Cigars have held an important and continuous place in my life for over 30-years (longer than my wife). My mom smoked cigarettes, but gave them up cold-turkey when she woke up one morning with a cold and had trouble breathing. My great-grandfather smoked a pipe. I don’t have direct memories of him doing so, but I do remember that wonderful smell!
Cigars are something I picked up on my own – with the help of a stranger I got paired up with on Highland Hills golf course one day. He offered me one of his. I hesitantly accepted. He had to show me how to cut it and light it. Much like Denzel Washington’s character in Crimson Tide, Commander Hunter, when setting to sea on the Bridge of the Alabama, I hacked and coughed my way through that first cigar and said, “It’s good, sir!”
I wish my golfing partner would have responded like Gene Hackman’s Captain Ramsey – “Don’t like it too much. They’re more expensive than drugs.” I have spent tens of thousands of dollars in pursuit of what I continually tell my wife is “a hobby, not a habit.”
I will insert the disclaimer here: I fully recognize and sympathize with those who have suffered harm at the hands of tobacco. Cigarette smoking kills. Smokeless tobacco can be equally as damaging. I understand that loved ones have been lost to cancers directly linked to tobacco use. I acknowledge that and you have my deepest sympathies.
However, I am an adult. With full knowledge, I make my own choices. And I chose to smoke cigars. During the summer, several a week. During the winter – for obvious and chilly reasons – that number decreases to a handful a month.
I have a 300-count humidor within reach of where I type this. A fifty-count at the office, where I will grab a stick for the drive home. I have a couple of travel humidors and some cases for the golf course. My dream is to build a smoke-proof study/studio in the basement where I can smoke and record and write and contemplate. Maybe someday. It’s always “maybe someday.”
For now, I smoke in the truck (keep that in mind when mooching a ride) and in my favorite spot – under my pergola in the back yard. I have some friends who gather here in Johnstown’s Pioneer Ridge to smoke and tell stories. I LOVE Churchill’s at the Brown Palace, and will try to meet friends when the legislature is in session to puff and talk politics.
I read Cigar Aficionado magazine and get ideas for new smokes from the reviews. My palate is not sophisticated. The fancy reviewers pick up “hints of minerals and pumpernickel and a bread finish.” Seriously. I just copied that line directly from the bible, er, CA magazine. I don’t. I sense strength (mild/medium/strong). I get spices, especially pepper, and sometimes cinnamon. I will occasionally pick up “leathery.” But never pumpernickel.
I know what I like. One day, I want to meet Nick Perdomo, shake his hand, and visit the vault in which he keeps all my money. Because I have sent him a bunch of it. Perdomo Champagne Reserves are my all time favorite. The Perdomo Habano is a great cigar, as is the Perdomo 30th Anniversary (although I am not a big fan of box-pressed sticks). I also like Padrons, especially the Padron Damaso – but they ain’t cheap. I like Monte Cristo Classics and sometimes the White Label series.
But here’s why I truly like cigars: the ritual. The sitting. The breathing. The cut. The light. The tap. It forces me to sit down, take my time, and be present in the moment – something I struggle with doing. I like the fat suckers, too. 6’x60 ring gauge. Double toros. A smoke that takes an hour. I never – NEVER – go anywhere with just one cigar. I go with at least three. Because I may smoke two and I want YOU to have one with me.
Because cigars should be shared with people. Conversations ensue. Friendships made and strengthened. Life shared. As it should be. That’s what I truly like about cigars. When I can’t smoke with a friend, I read. The Cigar Aficionado is treasured. Books. Newspaper. The Holy Bible.
And my mind races when smoking alone – that’s where the idea for this series came from – Cigar Stories – because I think of all the things I want to say to you while pulling on that Perdomo. So I will write those words here. Maybe you’ll smoke and read them. Or maybe you will just read them and have an epiphany of your own. Please comment and share when you do.
Please know that if it is a warmish spring/summer/fall evening, I am likely under my pergola solving the world’s problems with premium, hand-rolled tobacco stuffed in my mouth. You are welcome to join. Just shoot me a text. Maybe our conversation will spark the next Cigar Story.
