At some point during the colossal waste of time that was my few years in college, I took a phychology course taught by a professor named Campbell. It was unmemorable and boring, but I did leave the class with one realization. Apparently this professor had a sister who died, and he was left to take care of her daughter (his niece). The sister, while alive, had a habit of slicing a tomato in half and pouring salt on it, and then eating the tomato. Since the sister died while the niece was very young, the niece never saw her mother do this. However, when she grew old enough, the niece started to cut tomatoes in half and pour salt on them and eat them without anyone ever having shown her how.
The point was, some behaviors and tastes are inherited. They’re hard-coded into your brain and, given the opportunity, you act upon them.
Many times as I’m enjoying a cigar, I think about the pictures I have of both my grandfathers with a cigar in their hand. Both stopped smoking when I was very young, and I have no real memory of either smoking a cigar in person. Neither of my parents smoked cigars. However, as I approached my 18th birthday, I wanted to try a cigar for seemingly no reason. And try one I did. I started out with some of the cheap cigars you get at the drugstore. And then I met Steve.
Steve was my neighbor’s cousin. Physically, he was what you think of when I call someone a biker. He had a head full of gnarly black hair and a matching beard. He was heavy set with a deep voice, and although I don’t know anything for sure, I got the impression he had some problems in the past he had since resolved. Among the stories I remember, a drunken Steve crashed his convertible through the front window of a 7 Eleven while parking. When a very stunned store employee looked at Steve after the wreckage finished falling, Steve pulled himself over the windshield of the convertible and asked for a pack of Cool 100s. That story may be complete bullshit that Steve made up, but his personality made me believe the story could be completely true.
One summer evening, much like the evening during which I’m writing this post, I wandered over to the neighbor’s patio where Steve was visiting. He asked what I was smoking, and when I told him what a cheap thing it was, he stated that it wouldn’t do. He was going to show me some real cigars. We hopped into my car and drove to Kroger.
In the tobacco section, we found… brace yourself, cigar fans… 3-packs of Cuesta Rey 1884 Maduros. No kidding. They came in a nice blue and gold box and the cigars were wrapped in a gold foil inside. I think all three cost somewhere around $5. For those of you not familiar with cigars, finding that quality cigar in a grocery store these days, at that low price, is unheard of. You have to go to a tobacconist to get them now.
When we returned home, we opened up the pack I had bought and the smell was something great that I had not experienced before or since. I don’t even know how to describe it. Fantastic. Steve had a cutter and showed me how to cut a cigar correctly (which I promptly forgot for a dozen years) and we each lit up a smoke. The taste and smell of the cigar was a sensation that I wish I could have again.
I don’t know if my senses have dulled with age or familiarity, but I seem to remember cigars in general had a stronger or more distinct taste and aroma in years past. Our local tobacconist has told me several times that, because of the popularity of cigars over the past decade or so, some manufacturers have had to use tobacco of a lower quality in order to be able to manufacture enough cigars to meet demand. I can’t verify the accuracy of that information, so I can’t assign it as the reason for the perceived difference. But I remember smoking any size of La Unica, Arturo Fuente Maduro Curly Heads (no longer made) and the cedar-wrapped ones whose name I can’t remember, Santa Rosas, Punch and Hoyo De Monterey Double-Maduro, Rothschilds, and others, and each had a very distinct character. Now, I can tell slight differences between each, but not as much as before. It is me, or the cigars?
Cigars have become yet another one of those things in my life for which I have a great passion that I don’t share with anyone. I’ve had some friends with a passing or casual interest in cigars, and a few who have said they like cigars but never light one up, but nobody with a real interest. Such is my life.
There’s no real point here. I was just inspired to remember a little bit about an enjoyable event from the past.
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