Cigarettes
still make appearances, but pipes? Family photographs came out at Easter, some
with my father gripping a Peterson briar with his teeth. This April I
re-catalogue Philosophy (Dewey 190s). British Empiricists on old jackets have
the grip. Even the Existentialist Sartre has the grip, in a graphic act of mauvais
foi. It’s mysterious. Did the smoking ban silence pipes? Tobacco-clumping,
bowl-scraping, hemp-enflaming, air-perfuming: it seems a ritual of social
history now, gone the way of tape-cassettes and lace ruffs. My father kept his
in a pipe rack. Nothing to do now but accept change and take a deep breath.
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