Panatella Blues

As I write this, I am waiting for a friend to call. He is going to come by and we are going to sit on my porch and smoke a cigar and talk. Now, I know how politically incorrect smoking is, but, I really like a good cigar and I only do about one a month. As my cardiologist said, “That’s not smoking…” I am listening to my doctor and “not smoking” this afternoon with some good conversation, an art form that has almost entirely disappeared.

I have enjoyed good cigars since I was a kid, working in the tobacco fields of Connecticut. I grew up in what is known as “The Tobacco Valley” where they grow the finest “wrapper tobacco” in the world. That’s the leaf that makes up the outside of the cigar. There was a time when the fines Cuban cigars were wrapped in a Connecticut Valley wrapper. When Fidel took over and we embargoed, many of the tobacco growers in Cuba left….and took their seed with them to areas with similar growing conditions. Climate, amount of rain, soil and all of the other elements that make for a fine smoke, were all taken into consideration. They went to the Dominican Republic, the Canary Islands and Honduras, to name a few. Areas that now produce cigars that not only rival, but pretty much blow the Cuban cigars out of the water. The best part of a Cuban cigar these days is the mystique. Because they are against the law, they seemingly taste better, but, in reality, they don’t. It’s like the Russian poet Yevgeny Yevtushegov wrote, there are no apples as sweet as stolen apples. Something about filching them off the tree just makes them taste a little better. Consequently, many of the brand names that became legends to cigar aficionados are still available, only not from Cuban soil. They are grown and wrapped and rolled in these other areas and they are still classics when it comes to smoking pleasure.

There is something about a good, relaxing cigar that also tends to lead to good, intelligent conversation. When I first came to Dallas, I would frequent cigar stores that had built in humidors and comfortable chairs and couches where patrons could smoke and talk. I have been in the same room with a judge, a truck driver, a musician with the Dallas Symphony and a woman cop….all at the same time and all chatting about the world through a cloud of smoke that gave off a bouquet that could only be created by the different types of cigars we were all enjoying. People don’t converse anymore. They text, they IM, they facebook, they call on the phone, but, they don’t sit down, face to face and really talk about anything and everything. They should try it. It’s really very stimulating. Good conversation is an art form, kind of like letter writing, that is slowly fading away to the technology of today’s world.

I am not advocating smoking. I quit smoking cigarettes years ago and am nauseated by the odor as opposed to the aroma of a good cigar that reminds me of my grandfather, who was a tobacco exporter and whose office always had a wonderful smell to it as he and his partner would be talking about world affairs and puffing on Connecticut Valley classic Churchill sized stogie.

My friend is almost here and I am readying my rapier wit so we can “keep it lively” as we discuss the ills of the world and how to cure them….between puffs on a nice maduro. As Rudyard Kipling once proclaimed: “A woman is a woman…..but a good cigar is a smoke.”

THAT’S HOW I FEEL ……….WHAT CAN I TELL YA’