Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
Chuck Norris, Jul/Aug 98
(continued from page 5)
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Fishermen are always credited with telling great stories about the one that got away, or the huge fish they reeled in "but unfortunately no evidence exists." Well, I've got a tale that rivals any great fish story.
In August of 1997 my mother, who has been cleaning out her house, gave me my dad's tuxedo jacket. This jacket, made for him in Virginia, Minnesota, in the 1950s, had been in our cedar closet in the attic since 1965, the year my dad died. It had not been worn since at least 1961 or '62.
I took the jacket home and put it in my own closet, intending to have it dry-cleaned and mended so I could get it in shape to wear.
Well, one thing led to another, and it was not until February of this year that I finally got around to taking it to the cleaners.
Before I did, I went through the usual routine of checking all the pockets, more out of habit than anything because I did not expect to find a single thing in a jacket that hadn't been worn in more than 30 years.
Anyway, to my surprise, in the first pocket I checked--the front, outside breast pocket--I found a perfectly starched, still crisp, Irish linen handkerchief. This gave me inspiration as I searched the other outside pockets hoping to find something else interesting. Unfortunately, I found nothing.
Thinking my luck had run out, I stuck my hand in the inside breast pocket and paused as I heard the distinctive crinkling of plastic; at the very bottom of the pocket, I touched a familiar shape. Pulling the object out, I was amazed and shocked to see a Surrey's of New York Havana Cigar, still in the plastic wrapper, band intact.
Well, I knew my dad had been a cigar smoker and his brand was Surrey's (we still have Surrey's cigar boxes around the house), so I knew this was his. Instead of going directly to the cleaners as planned, I detoured to my local tobacconist, JB Sims of Bethesda, Maryland, and asked them what to do.
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