ThinkBlog

This is the better part of post #266 on christiancigarsmokers@yahoogroups.com, where one of the guys was asking people to describe their “best cigar moment.” I thought I’d share with you all, too.

My psychology professor (now friend and colleague, since I’m outside of his tutelage) at the college from which I just transferred is a very dear individual to me. He’s second-generation Italian, from New York and all that wonderful jazz, and we both share an interest in cognitive psychology as far as clinical study and research goes; we also share a love of philosophy. He’s a superlative conversationalist, a delightful man by all accounts. You can count on him to be genuine in a way that I’ve found many peers and even older gentlemen around this area of the country not to be. He and I can talk about our personal lives as easily as Sartre, and the latest linguistic study as enjoyably as the Word of God (he is a Christian, though his worldview is a bit to the left of where I stand ). To me, if I’m sharing a cigar with someone, the conversation is equally important as the stick, if not much more so: in fact, when I was first coming into the excellent world of fine cigars, I would invite my friends to have a Conversation with me–and they all knew what I meant.

For this particular occasion with my professor, I procured a couple of sticks of genuine Cuban Romeo y Julieta, Churchill size. It was my treat, because he’d bought me probably twelve shots of espresso over the course of the past few months. We had never shared a cigar, even though we both enjoy them, so this was a real blast.

We sat in the only cigar cafe I know of in that town, and as soon as I lit his (he has perfect form, 45-degree angle a bit above the flame, twirling it slowly–everything), on the first puff his face melted into a grin and he praised my selection. I had frankly forgotten what a real Cuban tasted like until I partook of mine. The bouquet was superb, sharp but not unpleasantly pungent, the smoke rolling around my tongue like falling into a sea of silk.

We started immediately to discuss everything that we’d been saving for this occasion, and it was truly one of the most delightful conversations I’ve had with anyone (save my girlfriend, naturally ) in several long months. We sat there, gesticulating wildly as we got more and more excited about what each other was saying, then letting that flow into a gentler relaxation, puffing a moment on our cigars before restarting the cadence. It was one of those rare conversations where time doesn’t seem to pass at all: we could have both kept going all night, but after three hours he received a call requesting his presence with his youngest grandson. I wouldn’t have denied him that pleasure, either, so we parted, smiling, with a mutual promise that we would be doing that again in the near future.

The conversation was like a unique, complex tapestry that you can only view in its entirety–in its complete uniqueness–only once, but you’ll never forget it. And, talk about complex! The cigar was phenomenal. I’m trying hard to forget it so everything else I smoke doesn’t taste so much like dirt in comparison! So there’s my best cigar moment. Here’s to many more, and perhaps with some of you, if you’re ever in town! (Columbia, SC–email me if you’re passing through. I know a place. )

This is the better part of post #266 on christiancigarsmokers@yahoogroups.com, where one of the guys was asking people to describe their “best cigar moment.” I thought I’d share with you all, too.

My psychology professor (now friend and colleague, since I’m outside of his tutelage) at the college from which I just transferred is a very dear individual to me. He’s second-generation Italian, from New York and all that wonderful jazz, and we both share an interest in cognitive psychology as far as clinical study and research goes; we also share a love of philosophy. He’s a superlative conversationalist, a delightful man by all accounts. You can count on him to be genuine in a way that I’ve found many peers and even older gentlemen around this area of the country not to be. He and I can talk about our personal lives as easily as Sartre, and the latest linguistic study as enjoyably as the Word of God (he is a Christian, though his worldview is a bit to the left of where I stand ). To me, if I’m sharing a cigar with someone, the conversation is equally important as the stick, if not much more so: in fact, when I was first coming into the excellent world of fine cigars, I would invite my friends to have a Conversation with me–and they all knew what I meant.

For this particular occasion with my professor, I procured a couple of sticks of genuine Cuban Romeo y Julieta, Churchill size. It was my treat, because he’d bought me probably twelve shots of espresso over the course of the past few months. We had never shared a cigar, even though we both enjoy them, so this was a real blast.

We sat in the only cigar cafe I know of in that town, and as soon as I lit his (he has perfect form, 45-degree angle a bit above the flame, twirling it slowly–everything), on the first puff his face melted into a grin and he praised my selection. I had frankly forgotten what a real Cuban tasted like until I partook of mine. The bouquet was superb, sharp but not unpleasantly pungent, the smoke rolling around my tongue like falling into a sea of silk.

We started immediately to discuss everything that we’d been saving for this occasion, and it was truly one of the most delightful conversations I’ve had with anyone (save my girlfriend, naturally ) in several long months. We sat there, gesticulating wildly as we got more and more excited about what each other was saying, then letting that flow into a gentler relaxation, puffing a moment on our cigars before restarting the cadence. It was one of those rare conversations where time doesn’t seem to pass at all: we could have both kept going all night, but after three hours he received a call requesting his presence with his youngest grandson. I wouldn’t have denied him that pleasure, either, so we parted, smiling, with a mutual promise that we would be doing that again in the near future.

The conversation was like a unique, complex tapestry that you can only view in its entirety–in its complete uniqueness–only once, but you’ll never forget it. And, talk about complex! The cigar was phenomenal. I’m trying hard to forget it so everything else I smoke doesn’t taste so much like dirt in comparison! So there’s my best cigar moment. Here’s to many more, and perhaps with some of you, if you’re ever in town! (Columbia, SC–email me if you’re passing through. I know a place. )