Why smoke a pipe?
It’s a valid question and it’s tricky because the answer has changed drastically over time. In the past, to smoke a pipe was to stay relevant. In today’s world, smoking a pipe appears as retro as churning your own butter. Now, the answer to “Why smoke a pipe?” is rooted equally in tradition and sentiment.
A century ago, if you asked somebody why they smoked a pipe, the answer would’ve been as simple as it was innocuous. Who didn’t? From doctors to congressmen, dockworkers to clerks, postal workers to General MacArthur, everybody smoked.
If you didn’t own a pipe, the solution was simple. Armed with a couple bucks, you’d head to your local tobacconist, because you still had one. If you were in a pinch and didn’t have time to peruse, you could pick up a pipe and tobacco at virtually any drug or grocery store.
In an age predating television and smart phones, smoking a pipe perfectly accommodated whatever you were doing. Maybe you were smoking with your friends or co-workers. Maybe you were at home huddled around the radio, to which you would’ve listened intently. Maybe you were out for a drive to kill the time. Whatever your quest, a pipe could serve as your companion.
Before World War I got fully underway, there were over 50 million pipes produced worldwide each year, with roughly half coming from France. By the late 20’s, that figure was cut in half. Where there were 80 factories in France prior to WWI, there are now approximately two, producing under 100k/yr. (I’m using France as an example because their history is the best documented.)
This brings us back to the initial question.
Amid a full-blown market slump where you don’t pick up a pipe under even an inkling of greater peer pressure… Why smoke a pipe?
Does the desire to smoke a pipe stem from tradition, of a longing for old-world antiquity? Is it because it just looks so damned cool? Or is there something more to it? Something harder to describe? Something quasi-ethereal?
My answer: Yes, to all of the above.
This time last century, while sacred, pipes were impersonal in their construction. When you bought a pipe, you were procuring a piece produced by a far-off factory by makers unknown. You were buying an item from an assembly line and the memories you created with this artifact were your own.
Today, the pipe market still moves factory pieces by and large, but as time rolls on, more and more of the market is gobbled up by individual craftsmen. As I write this, I’m surrounded by pieces made by friends from California, Florida, Virginia, Ohio, etc. People I know by name.
Recently I lost my stepfather of 25 years and as I sat at my desk, I found myself gravitating more and more to these pipes. In the face of memories that harbored sadness, I had artifacts at my disposal that served as anchors to happy memories to keep me company.
I’m not saying, of course, that pipes can circumvent grief. What I am saying: Look around your home. Can you find anything whose maker you know by name and by sight? Unless you own local art or an embarrassingly ugly sweater crocheted by a relative, I’ll venture to guess that the answer is no.
Unlike this time a century ago, pipes have become usable works of art, devices that embody concentration. Items that make you stop and pay attention as you keep your flame going. Items that make you stop and remember your friends, as it helps you keep going.
Why smoke a pipe?
Put simply: Because I want to. Because, in an age of smart phones and endless distraction, maybe I just want to stop and sit with reality for a while. And maybe that’s been the point all along. Like churning butter.
