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The word "souvenir" is an English noun borrowed or, rather, inherited from French and its word for "memory" or "memento," a somewhat curious linguistic adoption since French and English find themselves on different branches on the linguistic family tree. We English speakers have William the Conqueror to thank for that.
When William invaded Great Britain in 1066, he brought with him both numerous troops and the French language from his kingdom in Normandy. Upon his conquest — he's not named William the Defeated, after all — elements of French culture mixed and melded with the Anglo-Saxons', and as a result, over 10,000 current words in the English language trace back to French and, thus, Latin, as opposed to English's overarching Germanic roots. So, in a twisted sense of irony, "souvenir" is something of a souvenir in and of itself — a memento of the French language's influence on the English language.
Historical linguistic bunny trails and horrible examples of irony aside, though, keeping souvenirs is a meaningful, personal endeavor that many enjoy for nostalgia's sake, each souvenir calling to mind past experiences and people. Oftentimes, souvenirs are collected during a special trip: As a kid, I used to always look for those penny-pressing machines when on vacation, and I'm sure there's still a drawer somewhere full of those stamped and flattened cents from various museums and national park gift shops. Other people might look for a stone or flower or article of clothing to commemorate an experience, while some are content with photos as their only souvenirs. Photo albums, more or less, are a collection of souvenirs, after all, aren't they?
Who would ever willingly part with one of the pipes in their collection? Even if it no longer found a place in my rotation, a pipe would still hold aesthetic and sentimental value; it had memories attached to it.
I'm an inherent and insatiable collector, and I enjoy acquiring things of all types — shoes, soccer jerseys, ball caps, guitar pedals, tobacco tins, and pipes, obviously. "Hoarder" is perhaps too strong of a descriptor, but that's a very, very soft perhaps. (I still have a sweatshirt from elementary school and personal letters dating back over a decade.) I admittedly have a difficult time letting go of objects, especially if the item in question has sentimental value.
I remember first hearing about Smokingpipes' estate pipe program as a customer, before I worked here. I scoffed aloud at the idea. Who would ever willingly part with one of the pipes in their collection? Even if it no longer found a place in my rotation, a pipe would still hold aesthetic and sentimental value; it had memories attached to it.
I very quickly realized why someone would do such a thing: Call me a sell-out, but when a smooth Billiard with stunning cross grain was added to the site, I traded in a couple of pipes I no longer smoked often faster than you could say, "Restoration." Even still, the act went against my collector (i.e. hoarder) mentality, and it didn't feel particularly natural.
I've since grown in my understanding of myself and of my personal pipe preferences though. Aesthetic tastes change, and while there are those uber-special pipes that will never leave my possession, I must recognize that not every pipe can hold that high a designation.
When I first started taking pipe collecting seriously, I had a grand idea: a smaller, sub-collection of "destination pipes," or souvenir pipes bought to commemorate a trip or special location.
When I first started taking pipe collecting seriously, I had a grand idea: a smaller, sub-collection of "destination pipes," or souvenir pipes bought to commemorate a trip or special location. My enthusiasm for such a project was short-lived however. One, I'm not galavanting off to other countries or exotic, souvenir-pipe-worthy locales on a regular basis; and two, when I do travel, my budget is often tight, with little money left for pipes after considering air fare, lodging, and food.
Despite such concerns, I tried my hand at collecting these souvenir pipes during a summer trip in 2012. I failed miserably. Who knew that rural Western Australia wasn't overflowing with pipes and pipe tobacco? Not finding a destination pipe on that first trip dampened my spirits and opened my eyes to the intense pressure inherent within this idea — missing just one location would drastically reduce the nostalgic value and appeal of a destination pipe collection, the collection more becoming a reminder of the trips not represented than a celebration of those that are.
Still, I proceeded. In Spain, I purchased an unstamped bent Dublin at a local tobacconist, and it became a faithful companion during my time there, joining me on the porch to watch museum-worthy sunsets and assuaging those times I longed for aspects of American culture I had previously taken for granted.
I brought that bent Dublin back to the States when I returned, and it filled a spot on my pipe rack for a little bit before eventually falling out of rotation, replaced by other briars. It wasn't that the memories conjured by that pipe had dissipated, but the lack of a known maker and any other aspect that represented my trip didn't quite fit the commemorative ethos behind a destination pipe collection. It wasn't a Spain-made pipe, didn't depict anything related to where I had acquired it, and I had more meaningful souvenirs to commemorate my time there, so after much back-and-forth between me and my "hoarding" self, I eventually parted ways with it.
Like a lit pipe left too long on a stand, the flame of that souvenir pipe collection quickly burned out. However, I soon realized that wasn't so; I had only focused on the wrong type of souvenir pipes.
Throughout the years I've spent smoking a pipe, my adventuring friends have brought back from their trips souvenir pipes for me. Though I rarely smoke them, if ever, exotic pipes from Israel, Honduras, Hungary, New Zealand, and Morocco decorate the top of my bookshelf. They aren't destination pipes from my experiences, but their importance surpasses any souvenir pipe I could purchase for myself.
Like a lit pipe left too long on a stand, the flame of that souvenir pipe collection quickly burned out.
Instead of remembering a specific trip, when I hold and appreciate one of those pipes, I'm inundated with memories of the person who gave it to me: I remember conversations we had in high school, times we shared in college and after, outlandish pranks we pulled, and inside jokes we share.
Those souvenir pipes offer more significance than simple memories of any one trip could; they represent meaningful friendships. While they were made in and acquired from various places, these aren't "destination pipes," but "friendship pipes," mementos of people I'm still close to, despite living apart. They're also still souvenir pipes, tangible objects that call to mind memories of those I care about, and I'll never part with pipes of such significance as that.
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Comments
Truett,
You are an excellent writer and I learned something along the way (that bit about William the Conqueror). I knew the history of the event but just hadn't previously considered the linguistic ramifications. The way you crafted it into your narrative was very nicely done.
Truet,
Can You elaborate on this passage: "... assuaging those times I longed for aspects of American culture I had previously taken for granted." .
Thank You.
Sure thing, LV. Off the top of my head, I remember times when I longed for a late night snack only for nothing to be open -- no grocery stores, no restaurants. Most of the time it was a minor difference that I longed for, but something I had never thought about before. For the most part, though, I appreciated the cultural differences and enjoyed assimilating the best I could.
Truett,
I have a pipe collection that spans the last 40 years. The collection includes pipes that were purchased on trips to Dublin and London and elsewhere here in the U.S. The most cherished are the pipes that were gifts from family and dear friends. One in particular is a large merschaum billiard that was a gift from my uncle. That pipe was his constant companion while serving as a combat engineer in Korea, now a family heirloom. Yes, it comes off the pipe stand and gets smoked to this day in his memory.
Much thanks for a very nice and extremely well executed essay there Truett. May your pencil always be sharpened, so said the psycholgist in the room.
Phil J
Truett - Great theme on pipes, travel, relationships & that bond of pipe smokers! Thank you. I have a 50 yr collection of pipes gathered from abouts the globe whilst on Army deployments... all reminiscent of the places, events & people I was associated with or shared briar. Today we send each other tobaccos ... May we continue to hear from your pen!
Some time ago there was a terrific online presentation of a pipe shop in Budapest, which took a good deal of time to locate when I was in that city...I was so stoked after seeing their wares online. Well, I found the place, which was more than pedestrian. Pipes that one could purchase anywhere. And obviously, nothing came home with me.
This was not the case in Prague where I was thrilled with a KRSKA bent and smoke it with memories of that incredible city.
I did attempt to purchase a pipe in Amsterdam, recently, but the owner, who also manages a pipe museum that is well worth visiting, would not accept credit card payment. Too bad.
So my interest in having souvenirs of cities visited are only sometimes successful.
Souvenirs seem to be a part of the human psyche. The Ancient Greeks made little souvenir statues to be sold to people who had come to see really big statues, like the great statue of Zeus at Olympia. We often know about those big statues largely from the little souvenirs. In the Middle Ages people made pilgrimages to site connected to famous saints the locals made 'souvenirs' to sell to the pilgrims. The little items sold in connection with Saint Audrey were called 'things of Audrey,' which eventually got contracted into the English word 'tawdry.' Oh, and the French that came over with William became the official court language of the nobility of England, a situation that continued until Henry VIII proclaimed English to be the official language of England, which was quite a while later. I like Henry James use of one French word, ficelles, to indicated 'threads' that connect things, those little bits that connect us not only to our own personal experiences to to the history of our cultures and lives.
Like most pipe hoarders...er...I mean collectors, I have three main sets. Working pipes (smoked while cutting wood, painting, doing things around the house), they are beat up, paint spotted...you get the picture. The second group make up the bulk of my, and I guess, many collections. These are the daily pipes (first and last smoke of the day). They are rotated daily. The pipe I smoke today may not be smoked again for three weeks (no two days in a row). Finally, the pipes that are dear to your heart. These are the pipes that were gifts from family or friends. They are rarely smoked (most of my ‘gift’ pipes have not be smoked in years). They may not be from a renowned pipe maker or be the most expensive pipes in the world but they do bring to mind a face, a time, a place. Just looking at some of them can bring a smile and tug at the heart strings.
I guess all pipe smokers have pipes that roughly fall into three categories: 1. Pipes that are workhorses and are expendable. 2. Pipes that are comfortable and wear like an old sweater. 3. Pipes that are dear to you. No matter how many years have passed from the time they were given, they can still make you feel that handshake…that kiss.