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Thanksgiving is the start of the holiday season, the first major blitzkrieg into extended family, frantic cooking, busy airports, and doorbuster bargains on major electronics. There will be grievances, debates over how dry the turkey is, who backs the better football team, things that shouldn't be political that are, and how much of a failure your cousin Mark is for not showing up this year. There will be dropped plates and spilled drinks, someone will give the dog a bone they shouldn't have, the rolls might burn, and your favorite lounge chair might get stolen by your Aunt Donna.
Without fail, you'll have to share your smoking area with pipe-smoking nephews, cigar-chomping nieces, cigarette chain-smoking inlaws, and dip-spitting uncles. Your cellar or humidor may be raided, and a lighter might wander off or run out of fuel all too often. The bar you keep stocked might run dry or a fancy bottle you were hoarding be opened.
You may rip out your hair, swear as you untangle colored lights, burn your hands on hot casserole dishes, or run out of your favorite tobacco midday on Thanksgiving. You may sleep through the big game, wake up too late or stay too busy to watch the parade, or be forced to listen to Grandpa talk about that time in 1977 when he got a killer deal at Sears.
You may be annoyed, but...
You'll cherish those conversations when you're sitting near other smokers, and you'll value the chance to share your favorites with new and old generations alike. You'll grow fond of a shared glass of that rare scotch that you really never truly planned on opening. You'll smile softly at petty arguments turned to love and cheer. You'll relish the shared meal with all you hold dear. You'll listen enthusiastically to kin that you hear from once a year. You won't feel the world's weight when you see the kids play with the dog or the cat curled in someone's lap.
You might inspire a fondness in the next generation with the scent of tobacco mixing with a designer fragrance. Your favorite pipe might lead to an old memory when someone asks you about it. And when you're finally alone enjoying a quiet pipe when no one else stirs, as a cold wind blows the smoke from your briar into the wind, you won't feel its chill with all the warmth that is in your heart.
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Comments
Rose I enjoyed your piece titled Thankful. It was very well done. I don't think you left anything out.
Thank you for posting your fine Thankful essay, a very insightful and sensitive description of the last remaining “non-commercialized” holiday, which happens to be my favorite.
Rose, an excellent essay. Thank you.
Rose, I truly enjoyed every nuance of your writing perspective. Our smoke notes definitely “mingled” with interesting, humorous, and sometimes edgy conversations. It is true, our holiday blessing was a little chaotic. But, I do miss the blissful moments already…
Ya just don't see things like this very often any more. Thank you Rose for the warm soul.