Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
Pierce Brosnan, Nov/Dec 97
(continued from page 2)
In mid-June my father and I headed to California for one of his business trips. Normally I would not be included in one of these trips, but I had recently finished a semester at school and needed a vacation. We were heading to the Sacramento and San Francisco areas--Sacramento for the business portion of the trip and then San Francisco to visit relatives and sightsee.
To make a long story short we had spent a week looking around and taking in all of the sights, and the next day we had a flight back to Virginia. My father and I had spent a week worth of quality time together and I figured I would top the trip off by sharing a cigar with my dad on Father's Day. Before this night I had never smoked with my dad, so this was a special bonding night; I have always been real close to my father, but this night was incredible.
Before we left home I happened to pick up a couple of Cuban Montecristo No. 2s and, thanks to your Web site, the name of some popular cigar bars in San Francisco. So heading out for our last night on the town, I took my dad to Fume, a cigar bar right next to our hotel. The bar was quiet on a Sunday night, but what a great atmosphere for a smoke with my dad. With jazz playing over the speakers we sat down, ordered some drinks and lit up our cigars. I had heard about Cuban cigars being good, but this cigar was probably the best I ever had. My dad smoked his down to the nub and practically burned his knuckles. We sat around talking about cigars and life. I will always remember that evening for the pleasure that my father and I experienced from sharing one of life's simple treats together.
If it wasn't for the Internet, I would never have been introduced to the wonderful world of cigars. Last year I bought a new super-duper computer and decided to go on-line. The world of the Internet opened up before me; locating anything on the Internet is a bit like searching through a darkened Library of Congress with a pen flashlight. Eventually I found IRC, or Internet Relay Chat, and parked myself as a regular in one of the chat channels.
Around that same time a man in Oklahoma named Ross was discovering the same chat channel and we began talking. It turns out that Ross is a cigar lover, and I shared with him the fact that although I have never been a smoker I have always had a desire to smoke a cigar, sip a glass of Port and read a good book. That was my picture of peace and tranquility and some day I would try it.
Well, for Christmas I received a package from Oklahoma. You guessed it! Included in the package was my very first cigar, along with a little handbook on how to smoke it. The cigar wasn't anything fancy, but it was perfect for a newcomer. I fell in love with cigars.
Now I've had the experience of sharing some cigars with Ross; we both try different types and share our cigar adventures. We've both also had the opportunity to acquire a few Cuban cigars for each other--what a treat.
Not long ago I flew to Oklahoma to meet Ross and his family. He had set aside some special cigars for me and I brought him a few that he had never tried. We had a wonderful visit and each evening we would sit on the back porch and enjoy a fine cigar and warm friendship.
Ross and I have many years of friendship ahead of us--but we also have many years of cigar swapping and experimenting ahead thanks to the Internet. As our friendship continues to grow, so will our cigar icollections!
Kathleen M. Bradley
Tonight is my last night of undergraduate work at a small Christian college in west Tennessee. As I'm about to transfer to a nearby professional school, I can't help but reflect on the memories of the past few years. I've developed friendships here that cannot compare to anything I've ever experienced.
Though I have a few close friends who choose not to smoke, I have had the opportunity to develop relationships with several young men who share my love of a good cigar. I cannot count the times that have been shared, whether in deep conversation or in silence, with the accompaniment of a good smoke. These experiences have ranged from celebration of a new job or acceptance to professional school to consoling one over the loss of a parent.
Tonight being our last night on campus, we're going to do it one last time. I've chosen for this evening an Arturo Fuente that I've kept perfectly humidified for almost a year. Tonight will be different, though. Following graduation this weekend we will all be going our own way.
Marvin, I write this letter to say thank you. Thank you to Mr. Floyd, our local fine tobacco dealer, for supplying us with the catalyst for these experiences. Thank you to these friends for being there and sharing some of the best times of my life. And most importantly, thank you to God, for blessing me with these relationships and memories that I hold as priceless.
Kelly D. Green
I was recently returning from our family vacation home on the Colorado River near Lake Havasu, Arizona, when I was caught in a summer flash flood. The storm rolled in right as the sun was setting and while I was traveling west on a road affectionately known as Rice Road. This type of storm dumps a lot of rain in a short period, and usually has a spectacular light and sound show to go with it.
Fortunately, I was on high ground, so I pulled to the side of the road and pulled out an Arturo Fuente Hemingway that was a gift from a good friend. Sitting in my vehicle smoking the cigar while the storm raged over my head, with thunder shaking the car and lightning bolts from horizon to horizon and enough rain to form puddles in seconds, all I could think of was how small and insignificant we are in comparison to the might of Mother Nature.
The storm passed through in about 40 minutes, leaving in its wake numerous newly formed streams. The remnants of the sunset lit up the sky in a burning red and purple glow. While proceeding slowly down the road, I was thankful for being an unscathed witness to this awe-inspiring natural phenomenon, and for good friends with excellent taste.*
James P. Rose
Belmont Shore, California
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