Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
cigar case, Summer 93
(continued from page 8)
East Islip, New York
Editor's Response: Stanley, your spirit and tenacity are to be admired. On behalf of all cigar smokers, please enjoy a box of special cigars I am sending to you. You certainly symbolize the phrase "We shall overcome."
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On this matter of second-hand smoke: When I was employed by the National Geographic Society I drove to my office each day through Rock Creek Park [in Washington, D.C.]. Cars often crawled bumper to bumper, our idling exhaust spreading an acrid blue pall over the morning. On the pedestrian path beside the road I would watch a steady stream of joggers pass by, their chests heaving as they took deep breaths of pollution-laden air in their pursuit of physical fitness and longevity. Yet I'm sure these same people would insist that I was risking their health if I were to light a Macanudo or Hoyo de Monterrey in their presence. So just who is blowing smoke here?
Keep up the good fight.
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I took my wife (then girlfriend) Amy to Paris for the first time four Christmases ago. We were on the street at 6 p.m. on New Year's Eve, having decided we would spend the evening in our room at the Ritz with room service, Armagnac and a view of the Eiffel Tower, when she turned to me and asked, "Don't you want a cigar tonight?" That was it. I've been hers ever since.
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