Gatherings of pipe smokers is relatively informal affair. Recently, however, I found a fantastic list of 25 rules to follow at such gatherings. Many of these are humorous, but almost all have a great deal of validity and might be a good thing to hand out to everyone at a gathering.

As for me, I whittled down the list to my top 15 and made myself a poster that I plan on putting in my office / pipe room. The link at the end of this post will take you to the full list. I hope you get as good a laugh out of these as I did!

Full list: http://pipechat.info/index.php?topic=2059.0

Driving through the changing autumn leaves in Tennessee was like passing through a cool fireplace: vibrant shades of red and yellow and orange accompanied a refreshing fall breeze. The experience was coated by a film of anticipation.

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.

I view pipe smoking as one of the greatest celebrations available to us. It is a celebration of life, an exultation of the beautiful moments with friends and family, a jubilant shout that will not allow us to forget that being happy is a goal beyond value.

In March of this year, I traveled to Weston, Missouri, to celebrate my the birthday of my closest friend, Jesse. Weston is a small city, located just a short drive from Kansas City, and is home to the oldest whiskey distillery west of the Mississippi. Also located in Weston is a fantastic micro-brewery and a vineyard.

Jesse’s lady, Alicia, had contacted me months earlier to start planning his birthday, since Jesse is a man who works many long hours and rarely gets time to relax and simply enjoy life. Then again, he works at a brewery, so I don’t have too much sympathy for his whinging. Despite all of the plans, some of the best moments were those that were unplanned and unhurried.

When I arrived in Weston after a late night’s drive, I was the first of the guests to have shown up. It was late and no lights were on on the street except for those in Jesse’s house. I got inside and could barely contain my excitement to give my friend the present that I had picked out carefully and meticulously. I passed Jesse the small green bag and watched, giddy, as Jesse slowly unveiled what waited inside. Giving presents is honestly better to me than receiving them, because I get to give part of myself in physical form and provide someone that I care about with a reason to be happy.

The rusticated Peterson with a bent P-lip fit perfectly in Jesse’s hands, though his jaw instantly dropped. I am sure that he was exaggerating his reaction, as most friends do, but the joy was genuinely apparent in his face and the giant bear hug that he gave me afterwards — next to Jesse, I look like a lethargic three year old standing next to the Hulk.

One of the greatest joys about being a pipe smoker is the community and connection that you have with fellow members. Due to the fact that there are so few of us around, we instantly create strong and powerful bonds around our briar. With Jesse, we already had a strong friendship before pipes ever entered my life, so this simply became a strengthening factor.

For the rest of the evening, which was not too long given the hour, Jesse barely let the Peterson out of his hand, leaving me terribly satisfied.

Saturday morning, I woke up to join Alicia and Jesse in going to the store to buy fresh vegetables and eggs for omelets. After we got home, I packed my black sandblasted Rubens Rhodesian II with the re-release of Balkan Sobranie and filled my cup with strong, black coffee. Truthfully, this was the first time that I had ever started my day with an English and it really illuminated why every blend containing the words “Morning”, “Early”, or “First Pipe” always include Latakia.

A short while later, the next member of our party arrived: Patrick, also known as Patch. Patch is another member of our group of friends from the St. Louis Renaissance Faire who always walks around with smile on his face that cannot help but be adopted by everyone around him. The previous Summer, this same group of friends had traveled to the Bristol Renaissance Faire, where Patch had picked up his very first pipe and tobacco. Since that time, he had become a full-fledged Brother of the Briar and brought along his newly acquired pipe.

Since I was still enjoying my coffee and pipe, Patch loaded up his pipe with an aromatic blend that he bought from a local tobacconist, while Jesse sat down across from me and “borrowed” some of my Balkan Sobranie for his clay pipe. The next couple of hours were simply beautiful, with friends who live hours away from each other united by genuine affection and pipes.

“All right, boys!” Alicia barked with a smile. “Let’s go do something.” I knew that Alicia had a plan for where we would go, so I threw on my shoes, grabbed my pipes (just in case), and headed out.

After a short walk past the distillery and brewery, we ended up in Weston’s downtown area. A few turns later, we were standing in front of Weston Tobacco. I had been to a number of tobacconists, but I have to say that this place was really fantastic.

First of all, the place is still family run by a father and son. When I walked in, the one gentleman working was behind the counter hand rolling cigars. The establishment had a modern yet rustic simplicity, with brick walls, antique desks, and shelving units made of bare metal. Even with this, the building was full of necessary comforts: there was lounge in the back with a television and leather couches, while the front of the house had a number of chairs in front of another TV, this one playing the new Star Trek movie, which made me a very happy geek.

I started looking around as soon as I walked in and was informed by Jesse that Weston Tobacconist had recently, partly due to his prodding, decided to add more pipes and pipe tobaccos to their offerings. The offerings in terms of pipes were still minimal, but it made me extremely happy to know that some tobacconists are working against the trend of eliminating pipes in favor of cigars.

For a while, I watched the owner rolling cigars, an art which I hope will never be lost, because it truly was a hypnotizing process. Once a few customers walked in, he hopped out of his seat and helped them select their cigar from the offerings found all around.

In the mean time, Jesse, Alicia, Patch, and I all gathered around the high table and stools, pulled out our pipes, and relaxed. Jesse had brought along his Peterson and looked as happy as could be. Before long, the owner had joined us once more to talk and ask a question: “What kind of beer do you all like more: lagers or stouts?”

I couldn’t help but answer the latter, but I was slightly perplexed as to why he asked. A minute later, he reappeared from the back of the store with four beers in hand, one for each of us. “Put that away,” he smiled at me when he saw me reaching for my wallet. Grateful and truly touched by the gesture, I happily sipped from both the bottle and my pipe, talking with my friends about nothing and everything, while Kirk worked to defeat the Romulan renegades.

Truthfully, I was reluctant to leave. Soon, however, we had all changed and were enjoying a delicious meal of lamb, Ouzo, and gyros. We laughed loudly, danced, ate and drank our fill, and loved life.

The rest of evening consisted of even more friends joining us, including Jon, affectionately known as “Ogre”, because of his height. Jon had brought along his pipe, too, so more celebration was in order. After Ogre arrived, the festivities included, but were certainly not limited to, many bowlfuls of tobacco, some people trying snuff for the first time (highly entertaining), and singing Les Miserables over glasses of bourbon, vodka, micro-brewed beer, and homemade moonshine.

The trip down to Weston was short, but very sweet. There was a lot of laughter, probably more drinks than were needed, great food, close friends, and many, many pipes. While I truly love smoking a pipe, it is nothing compared to smoking a pipe with your closest friends who share your enjoyment of the experience.

Independence Day. The 4th of July.

For Americans everywhere, these titles evoke intense happiness for many reasons. For some, it is a sense of patriotism; for others, it is remembers those who gave their lives in the defense of a country that they loved so dearly; for others, if not most, it also has to do with barbecues, burgers, and beers, family, friends, and fireworks.

Before I get into the bulk of my piece, allow me to wish every one of you a happy and safe Fourth of July. Please keep the kids away from the fireworks!

It is easy to simply crack open a beer, watch the colorful designs made in the sky, and think no more about this day. It is also easy to simply think, “Well, this is when America won its independence.” I would encourage you to think a little bit deeper and consider how this celebration connects to our lives today.

The Revolutionary War has been cited as having many inspirations: taxation without representation, alienation, authoritarianism. No matter what reason one cites, one of the most critical moments leading up the American Revolution was the Boston Tea Party, or, as it was known at the time, the destruction of the tea.

So, why did this event occur? It was primarily a reaction to a series of laws passed in 1767, which were proposed by Charles Townshend. These laws included a number of tax hikes on products like stamps, sugar, and tea. These were items that the colonists valued and the Acts took that into account. After all, the primary purpose of a tax is to raise funds and the most effective way to do that is by taxing something that people cannot live without, or do not want to as in the case of tea. This, combined with the later passage of the Tea Act, resulted in colonial jobs to be lost and a number of people to be unable to afford their daily servings of tea without compromising other financial aspects.

The result of these new taxes was a feeling of oppression on the part of the colonists. This feeling surged until it finally culminated in the destruction of the tea.

Enough with the basic history lesson. So what?

The Boston Tea Party, arguably the powder-keg for the American Revolution, was a result of a government taxing luxury items to the point of making them more and more difficult to afford. Does this sound at all familiar?

In order to control the use of tobacco products today in the United States and elsewhere in the world, taxes are being raised on these items, sometimes to the degree of over 1,000% increases of current taxes. It seems horribly ironic for a country to be committing similar offenses to those that caused the country to be born in the first place.

Quick side note: this taxation spans party lines. It is not one party or another, one person or another. It is an apparent coalition on the part of governmental figures to unite against tobacco because it is the popular thing to do.

These taxes, while not physically or legally preventing the innocent pipe and cigar smokers from enjoying his hobby, discourage the use of luxury tobacco products through financial manipulation, all the while hiding behind the shady technique of lumping both cigars and pipes in with cigarettes. While we’re at it, let’s stop playing Bach and Beethoven just because we don’t like Britney Spears.

It is an attempt to limit our freedom without being accountable for doing so. They are trying to have their cake and eat it, too. It is subtle. It is deceptive. It is powerful.

I know that “independence” and “freedom” are not synonymous. But “independence” and “autonomy” are often cited as meaning the same thing, or at least being easily interchangeable. Autonomy is the ability to act and make decisions for oneself. These draconian taxes of all tobacco products violates this concept, however.

Mind you, I am in no one encouraging a revolution. Well, maybe a little one, but not in the same way as happen in Boston in the December of 1773.

There is already an official International Pipe Smoking Day, Febuary 20th, a day that I look forward to every year. I would encourage that today, July 4th, become our National Pipe Smoking Day. Across the country, we can stand (or sit) together and declare that, while some might disagree with or not like pipe or cigar smoking, they should damned well respect our ability to make that decision for ourselves, so long as we are not imposing it on others.

There is brilliant episode of the show “Futurama” where the characters celebrate a holiday known as “Freedom Day”. They celebrate this by engaging in any activity that might otherwise be unacceptable. Let’s face it, pipe and cigar smoking both have a clear stigma attached and many of us deliberately hide our hobby in an attempt to not offend others, because we are considerate.

Today, however, I encourage you to celebrate your autonomy at the same time that you celebrate America’s independence. Make the decision for yourself and enjoy your life. Smoke a pipe or a cigar or both, and, if someone asks, just tell them that you believe independence is something to be cherished.