Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
Pierce Brosnan, Nov/Dec 97
(continued from page 3)
I just wanted to present this poem to you to say thanks. Thanks for a great magazine and for bringing me together with others who enjoy the finer things in life. As an entrepreneur, I have a great appreciation for anyone who has the guts to put his money where his vision is and take on the risk of starting such a venture. It's people like yourself who ought to be admired in our society today, instead of our current crop of human debris. Anyway, I wrote this poem to honor one of my favorite passions and to all those likewise who savor one of God's greatest gifts to mankind -- a CIGAR! My best to you and to all those at Cigar Aficionado.
A cigar is a smoke it's plain to see,
One of life's little treasures it ever will be
On a warm Summer's day or a crisp Autumn's eve,
A cigar is delightful to give or receive.
From its smooth, silky wrapper with its bright oily sheen,
To the binder and filler that lies in between.
From its spicy aroma to its wafting blue smoke,
Light up in sorrow or while telling a joke.
When others around you just don't understand,
Smoke to the freedom you hold in your hand.
When life's constant worries leave you in a huff,
Just burn them away with each savored puff.
From Churchill to Burns, to Kipling to Twain,
Each cherished joining tobacco to flame.
At the end of the day there's no better greeter,
Than a cigar wrought with the scent of a humidor's cedar.
Hecho A Mano, it's made by hand,
Nourished by sunlight in a tropical land.
You can search the World over near and far, But please, if you do, take a cigar!
In your August 1997 Cigar Aficionado, Doug Shaw of Carl Junction, Missouri, ended his letter with: "If a guy can do better that that, please tell me how."
Well, just a few months ago, I'd been married all of eight or nine hours to my new beautiful Brazilian bride, and the scene at my home was intoxicating: the deck surrounded with Latin torches, flames flickering in a soft spring breeze; two grills billowing smoke for the last two hours with the smells and morsels of Brazilian cuisine tantalizing every taste bud. My best friend and his family were there, over in the lounge chair my grown son sat with his girlfriend in his lap, other good friends were all around in gaiety and laughter. Sitting beside me was my brother, five years my elder. We watched his Brazilian wife, guitar in hand, as she and my new bride sang love songs to us in their native tongue. I sat there, floating on a cloud with my favorite brew in hand, when my brother, without a word, looked at me, grinned and handed me a beautiful, hand-rolled Dominican cigar. The next hour was nothing short of pure, relaxing ecstasy! Doug, I wasn't there for yours, but I sure wish you could have been there for mine.
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