Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
Demi Moore, Autumn 96
(continued from page 7)
Smokers of cigars seem to understand their place in the world. I consider myself a private individual and it is with some trepidation I write my first letter to an editor. On April 11, Lisa, my sister-in-law, brought a child by the name of Liam into our community. I realize this event by itself went unnoticed by the mass of humanity but certainly not by family and friends. We have been anticipating this event every day of her pregnancy. I am the father of three children and luckily my wife has had relatively normal deliveries. Lisa has not been so lucky. One year ago, Claire, her first child, was born premature and died after four short weeks.
Very early in Lisa's current pregnancy, I was able to lay my hands on two Cuban cigars and store them away for Patrick, Lisa's husband, and myself to celebrate the forthcoming occasion. As the months passed, I would think of Lisa and Pat; I would often check on the cigars and my thoughts turned to how perfect the cigar is for celebrating a child's birth. Of the millions of cigars smoked every day, the cigar we hold in our own hands is special to each of us aficionados. The anticipation created prior to smoking each cigar is not unlike any newborn; will they live a clean, honest and worthy life, will they meet and exceed their potential? We hope that with the proper care, each will be special and we will be rewarded with satisfaction.
A life must be lived and so must a cigar be smoked. Like any good life, the cigar is touched by many, from the grower, roller and distributor, to the buyer. As Pat and I enjoyed our cigars, we contemplated the drifting smoke and the memories and the special times of our lives. The scent and the time for solitude wake us to our past and we reflect on our fathers and grandfathers.
Alas, the cigar smoked, like the life lived, will be but a memory. Some lives may be double coronas while others petit; Claire, in her short life, taught us the quality of our life is the memory left with others. Pat and I welcome Liam and wish him a long and bright future.
After hearing of the passing of George Burns, I decided I needed to share with you how George Burns changed my life as a cigar smoker. My wife, Martine, and I have been married for three years. Two years ago I found that smoking a cigar seemed to settle the tension that a full week of work brings. Much to my wife's displeasure, cigars gave me stress relief a few times a week.
One night while we were living in Southern California, we joined my best friend and his girlfriend for an evening at Wolfgang Puck's Spago. My wife was extremely excited to be dining at Spago, especially after meeting Wolfgang himself at the door. After a picture with the great chef, we were informed by the hostess they were setting our table. While we were being escorted to the table, our hostess said, "You will have to excuse the cigar smoking, but Wolfgang believes that anyone 99 years old should be able to do whatever they please." My wife practically went into shock; sitting next to us was George Burns, dressed in a tuxedo, with a table of friends.
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