One of the sad responsibilities of anyone involved in providing information in any area is occasionally having to report the death of one of the influential members. Thus, it is with a heavy heart that I report the passing of one of the most important members of the pipe tobacco word: Craig Tarler of Cornell & Diehl. Mr. Tarler left us late last night, September 4^th, after a long medical struggle.

Earlier today, Cornell & Diehl released the following:

“For the past twenty three years Craig and his partner and love of his life Patty devoted themselves to their family and his great passion, pipe tobacco and pipe smokers. Craig found pipe smokers to be among the most interesting of the people he met during his rich and full life and years of traveling the world. His genuine love of people and friendly, outgoing and larger than life personality was evident to all who came in contact with him, whether by phone or in person. On many occasions visitors would come by to visit at Cornell & Diehl and all had the same reaction, that they felt they already knew Craig and Patty from getting to know them on the phone and felt they were visiting with an old friend on their first face to face meeting.

While Craig will certainly be missed by all whose lives he touched he wouldn’t want us to be saddened by his leaving. He viewed life as a wonderful adventure, meant to be savored and experienced to the fullest and shared with others. Selfishness was a foreign concept to Craig; he gave fully and freely of himself to all he came in contact with and would wish to be remembered with a smile and a heart full of good will for others. Though our world here on earth is a bit darker, we should all be heartened by the knowledge Heaven is a bit brighter, lit by Craig’s rogueish, joyful smile and his booming voice announcing his arrival with the words, “Oh, what fun!” ”

I wish I could say that I had gotten the chance to meet Mr. Tarler, but, alas, I was not so honored. However, like many of you, I have been influenced and touched by his dedication to our hobby and his relentless pursuit of perfection.

My best wishes go out to the family that Craig leaves behind, including his wife and children. I know that his extended family (all of us) will remember him and continue to honor his memory.

I was sitting on the couch earlier this week, after filling a fresh Rad Davis prince with, fittingly, Prince’s Street Mixture, a fine blend created by Dick “Chief Catoonah” Silverman for the 2012 Chicago Pipeshow John Cotton Throwdown. According to the website where the tobacco is sold, Prince’s Street “is a blend of two Virginias, a small amount of Turkish Ribbon and Cyprian Latakia and a touch of Perique. The result of the careful balance of these components is a mellow, medium bodied smoke.” After this, there is a bit of a caveat emptor moment, where it is stated that “it is very important that you realize that it is a re-creation of the current character of a 25+ year-old tobacco. Over time the zest of the Latakia fades and the subtle flavors of the orientals do diminish.”

I’ll admit, I noticed that the flavors were slightly muted in this blend in the attempt at recreating an aged blend, but that is not what concerned me. As I sat on my leather couch, full of its puncture wounds courtesy of my young kitten, Isis, I found myself transported back to the smoking tent at the 2012 Chicago Pipe Show. I was sitting next to Rick Newcombe as I tried one of the contestant blends for the Throwdown in my Yanik meerschaum. Of course, at the time I did not know that it would be the winning blend or would later be called Prince’s Street Mixture.

The transportation was so vivid, so real that I savored every sip of the English tobacco even more than I might have otherwise.

Researchers have explained that memories relating to an event are located through many different areas of the brain, specifically the areas that have to do with sensory reception, which makes sense (no pun intended), considering that events are no more than stimulation of the senses and our reaction to those events. The significance of this is that the stimulation of a certain sense will not only bring back memories related directly to that specific sense, but also the other senses. The result is that a fully formed memory can be recalled simply by the activation of one of the senses.

Fascinatingly, a study done in the early 2000s involving brain scanning found that a visual stimulus can actually activate regions of the brain associated with a previously experienced and remembered smell. As many of us know, the opposite is also true. It is often said that smell is the sense most strong related to memory. While this has not been totally confirmed, there are several theories as to why this might be.

One part of the theory is that taste and smell are so closely related, thus giving smell the advantage of two senses. More advanced studies of the brain have also shown that the olfactory cortex might have a direct link to the hippocampus, the area of our brain which plays a large role in moving information from short-term memory (sensory perception) to long-term memory.

In contrast, as a fascinating article on Science Blogs by Jonah Lehrer states, “all of our other senses (sight, touch and hearing) are first processed somewhere else – they go to the thalamus – and only then make their way to our memory center. This helps explain why we’re so dependent on metaphors to describe taste and smell. We always describe foods by comparing them to something else, which we’ve tasted before. (“These madeleines taste just like my grandmother’s madeleines!” Or: “These madeleines taste like the inside of a lemon poppy seed cake!”) In contrast, we have a rich language of adjectives to describe what we see and hear, which allows us to define the sensory stimulus in lucid detail. As a result, we don’t have to lean so heavily on simile and comparison.”

In addition to its connection to the hippocampus, it also appears that the olfactory area is closely related to the amygdala, which is what process emotion. This helps to explain why smells and tastes not only spawn vivid memories, but also frequently conjure up intense emotion. A scent might make you think of an old romance or a taste might remind you of the comfort of home.

In my case, the smell and taste of Prince’s Street Mixture filled me with extreme happiness as I remembered all of the friends that I made while at the Chicago Pipe Show. I remembered the incredibly relaxed feeling that I had in that moment in the tent and the joy that I felt to be somewhere that my hobby was not simply tolerated, but appreciated.

There was a lot of scientific language, but let me summarize simply: this blend reminded me of a very happy time and has continued to create even more pleasant memories.

We all have guilty pleasures. To quote the character of Martin Vanger, the antagonist in the remake of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” ‘… we’re not that different, you and I. We both have urges. Satisfying mine simply requires more towels.’

At least one of my guilty pleasures doesn’t require towels, merely a strong stomach and epicaricacy when I encounter egregiously bad writing. I am not alone by any means, and count myself amongst the multitudes that eagerly await the annual results of the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest.

The English Department at San Jose State University is the sponsor of the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, a whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels. The contest is named after Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who opened his novel, “Paul Clifford” with ‘It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.’

My entry this year was

‘Pausing, with a Lomonosov tea cup near her sensuous lips, Veronica suddenly became aware of the sound of multiple MH-60 helicopters approaching her impeccably appointed, 23^rd floor penthouse. Immediately, her Mossad training took control, but immediately wasn’t fast enough. Simultaneously, there was the sound of breaking glass, accompanied by the ‘thump’ of boots hitting her recently polished hardwood floors and the unmistakable sound of  rappel couplings being disengaged. Time began to dilate as she charged for her front door; exactly the spot where a shape-charge detonated. As consciousness slipped away, Veronica thought “Dear God, the Pope has deceived me!”

Sadly (for me), the 2012 Bulwer-Lytton was won by Cathy Bryant of Manchester with an opening paragraph that could qualify her as the ‘Ed Wood’ of literature.

If you have a Bulwer-Lyttonesque opening paragraph lurking within, I’d love to see it.

–Bear

Almost two months ago, I found myself doing one of the boldest, most life-changing actions in which I had ever partaken: I found myself down on one knee during the mid-day joust at the St. Louis Renaissance Faire in a full kilt, asking my girlfriend to marry me. The silly girl said yes, luckily enough for me. Naturally, this gave me pause to stop and reflect upon the many aspects of our relationship, but the one that I would specifically like to share with you is, without surprise, relating to pipes.

I remember that pipes used to be a point of slight contention between me and my fiance’ when we first started going out. Lauren came from a family that smoked cigarettes heavily and had come to despise them. Perhaps because of the success of the anti-tobacco propaganda, she had come to associate all tobacco products with cigarettes, as a lot of people do. Thus, because of the negative impact that cigarettes had on her family, she was concerned when she found out about my love for pipes.

Her fear concerned me as well, as I didn’t want to give up pipes, though I didn’t want to cause her grief. Naturally, smoking my pipes would have been the one to go if it had to, but I took this as an opportunity for discussion. I talked with her about the medical differences between pipes and cigarettes and let her know exactly why I love pipes as much as I do. I discussed at great length the joy that pipes bring into my life, the simple pleasure found in a quiet moment of reflection, and so on.

After hearing the differences, including the fact that pipes are smoked less frequently (typically) than cigarettes and are usually not inhaled into the lunges, she completely changed her tunes. She encouraged my hobby and has done her best to learn more about pipes because she knows how much they are a part of my life. There is little more touching to me than when I light up a blend around her and I see her pause, sniff the air, and identify it as an English or a Virginia.

Recently, Lauren did something that revealed her radical change in opinion of pipes.

We were attending a staff holiday party for the pub where we work and were both having a great time. It was a cold evening in December, but the heating lamps and fire pits made the back patio quite pleasant. Since the majority of the staff and friends of the staff were cigarette smokers, the majority of people spent their time on the patio, drinking and smoking and having a good time.

Along with my bottle of mead, one of my favorite drinks, I brought my IMP meerschaum and a bowl’s worth of Boswell’s Christmas Cookie.

When I pulled my pipe out, Phoebe, a server at the pub, said in her too-adorable British accent, “That looks like a whale bone!”

I kind of agree with her. It is a freehand design with a plateau-style finish at the top, which will look absolutely fantastic once it starts to color further. It was a present from my brother two Christmases ago and it has been my go-to meerschaum ever since.

Once I settled in by one of the heating lamps, with Lauren by my side, I lit up and relaxed. I truly adore Boswell’s Christmas Cookie, as you might have noticed with how frequently I have mentioned it. To me, it is absolutely the perfect aromatic, with nothing too overwhelming, but still perfectly light and sweet. It both tastes and smells like an oatmeal raisin cookie.

Once I had been puffing for a little while, I asked Lauren how it smelled. Being someone who is still allowed and able to smoke indoors, I find her opinion on the aroma of a given tobacco to be one of the biggest factors of when I choose to smoke what. There are certain ‘baccies that I reserve strictly for smoking indoors, as I know that she will like them. Mac Baren’s Honey and Chocolate comes to mind.

She heartily approved of the room note — who wouldn’t?

A couple of minutes later, as I slowly exhaled a wisp of smoke, I looked over to her and smiled. She smiled back and then made a strange face.

It looked like she was trying to suck on a straw that wasn’t there. I cocked an eyebrow, channeling Spock.

Using her lips to gesticulate, an impressive task while still having them pursed, she motioned towards my pipe.

I couldn’t believe it. Surely, she didn’t mean…

“You want to try?” I asked hesitantly. I felt like a child approaching a deer, not wanting to move too eagerly for fear of disturbing it.

She nodded.

Astonished, I handed her my pipe, which she delicately held by the stem like she had seen me do in an attempt to not get grime on the meerschaum itself.

She took the slightest of puffs and let it drift out of her mouth. It was gorgeous.

Smiling as a trail of smoke still drifted from her lips, she took another puff and handed the pipe back to me.

This continued through the evening, with me taking five puffs or so and then handing it back to her.

I cannot express how much this event meant to me. It felt like she had finally fully embraced a part of me that I had always been slightly afraid would offend her. It wasn’t until a year-and-a-half into our relationship that she saw me actually smoke for the first time.

Since that night, Lauren has treated my pipes like an extension of who I am, showing them respect and deep interest. She has even spontaneously suggested that I smoke a pipe. I’m not sure if it was because she thought I was stressed, but I think it was just because she knows how much I enjoy it.

It is amazing how much of a difference the acceptance and encouragement of my loved ones make in my ability to enjoy my pipes. I have never been one whose actions have been dictated by the whims of others, but those who get close enough to me to earn the title “loved ones” are people that I work hard at making happy.

This Spring, we both attended the Chicago Pipe Show and had an amazing time. We met fantastic people from all over the world, saw some of the most stunning pipes, and got to visit with friends over tobacco, gin-and-tonics, and laughter. While there, Lauren decided that she wanted to acquire a pipe for herself. I had purchased her a beautiful meerschaum pipe a month or so before, as I knew that it would be one that she loved — and she did — but she had found herself overcome with the same itch that assaults me every time Nick releases an update of pipes.

After browsing for some time, she decided that she had four criteria for a new pipe: she want it to be small, have bamboo, be black, and have a sandblasted finish. This was fairly specific, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to find one.

While waiting for a chance to speak with Hiroyuki Tokutomi,  I spied a pipe on the table from the Tokutomi Pipe Company that fit all of the qualities that Lauren requested. It was perfect and I snapped it up before anyone else had the chance.

Calling Lauren down from her room to the show floor, I presented her new pipe and watched her face light up. She carried the pipe around with her for the rest of the show, bragging about it to anyone that she could, and breaking it in with a bowl of McClelland’s Dominican Glory Maduro.

I know that Lauren’s initial resistance to my pipes was out of concern for my health. Now, after she has learned more about pipes, she sees them for what they are and embraces them for how happy they make me (not that they make me happier than her, of course!).

That’s the thing about loved ones. They are happy if you are happy. That’s why they are loved ones.