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Nollaig Shona Duit!
Merry Christmas!

In October at the Texas Pipe Show, a vaguely familiar man came up to our table, beamed down at me and said, “I bet you don’t remember me!” But after a minute, I did.  I hadn’t seen Bob Tot since we graduated at the University of Tulsa together in 1980, but he and I smoked many a pipe in the parking lot behind the Religious Studies building.  He’s retired, of course, but has been steadily puffing on Petes. It turned out he reads the blog, and even more suprising, had brought me a few things he’s written. “I dunno if you’d be interested in sharing any of them with your readers, but if you are, you’re welcome to them.”

The first thing I picked out of his manuscripts was this charming story, which seems like the perfect gift to my fellow Pete Geeks this Christmas morning, touching as it does on so many issues we’ve laughed and cried about together over the past 11 years.

An Irish Christmas Card, 1910

Pollination and Other Pipe Smoking Phenomena
by “Old Smoke”

I had done nothing outrageous, unless you call smoking Ten Dead Russians in the house outrageous.  That’s why I wasn’t too surprised when Candice poked her head in and wrinkled up her nose. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing,” I said, “just enjoying a quiet smoke before the kids get home from soccer practice. Why?

“Because you haven’t been acting weird lately.  Every time you pretend your life’s not running off the rails, I know something’s up.”

“Well, actually I was trying to figure out how to tell you I’ve been having an affair with that girl across the street.”
My confession sparked a wildfire.  It was easy to see why Candy might be jealous. Dark, beautiful young women often find older, slightly balding pipe smokers irresistible. That’s why I find it incomprehensible when a wife vents her jealousy by bending over holding her sides with squeals of laughter.

“No,” she said, “really, stop! You’re killing me. My sides ache. No more jokes.  Goodness. Now I’ve forgotten why I walked in here. Oh yes, I remember.  I think you’re up to something.  I think you’ve snuck another pipe into the house without telling me.”

“Seriously? We’re going to talk about this? First, I find the use of the adjective ‘another’ really offensive.  Second, I do not sneak pipes into the house.”

“That right?  Then explain why you have almost twice as many pipes this year as you did last year. And with Christmas coming, too.  Explain yourself buster, or you can sleep in here with the dog tonight.”  This is another classic example of a wife’s misunderstanding of pipe smoking phenomena far beyond her comprehension.  In my thirty years as a pipeman, I’ve discussed this at pipe shows with other married pipe smokers, and I can tell you it’s nearly universal.

What never crossed Candy’s mind is the well-known scientific fact that pipes pollinate and produce more pipes if confined for lengthy periods to a pipe rack. Last week, for example, I came home from an exhausting week with my sixth grade science students and staggered to my pipe rack for relief. I did a double take, turned on the light, and to my amazement, nestled between a 302 Late Republic and a Sherlock Holmes Milverton was a little 160^th Anniversary Pat B Barley. Astounding? Not at all. As a scientist, I knew what had happened.

“A Cute Little Guy”: The Pat B Barley
(photo courtesy Smokingpipes.com)

The pollination period for a new pipe varies according to its grade, as everyone knows, and can range anywhere from a week to several months depending. I looked at the calendar and counted back, and there it was. We’d been out of the house over the weekend only a month ago, when the pipe rack had been left unsupervised. There’s a dangerous air conditioning vent that can blow a soft breeze over the rack, and that’s exactly what happened.  Microscopic particulates of briar had blown from the 302 to the Milverton.  The empty rest between the two pipes was, of course, the problem.  Never, never, leave a pipe rack unattended if there are empty rests in it!  If I’d only remembered to put a pipe there.  It’s too late now, of course, and the Pat B is a cute little guy.  I’ll see if I can’t give him a good home.

Let’s take another example of pipe smoking phenomena beyond the ken of Candy and many other wives, spontaneous generation.  A few months ago, I told her I was nearly out of tobacco and was hoping the family budget might accommodate a few tins, since everything would be 15% off for Black Friday sales and it would really be a great savings for us.

“Savings?” she said.  I detected a undercurrent of incredulity and told her so.  She said, “Walk this way, fella” leading me to the den where I keep my pipes and tobacco. “What are all those?” she said, pointing her finger up at the top shelves of the book cases lining two walls.

“Don’t you know it’s not polite to point, Shorty?” I said.  At 5 foot 1, Candy is always getting after me to dust those tins, since she can’t reach them.) “Anyway, those are just empty tins,” I said.  “Strictly decorative.  For ambience.”

“Some ambience,” she replied, turning on her heel. “Remember we need a new set of tires. We need them this month,” she said, walking out.  “Oh,” she said, poking her head back in, “and don’t forget Christmas is next week. I’ve sent you my wish list every day for the past month. You needn’t bother sending me yours. I can guess,” again pointing at the empty tins on top of my book cases.

“What the f***?” I thought. I didn’t remember even giving her a hint  for anything I wanted for Christmas.

The next week the FedEx guy knocked on our door, standing behind a two-wheel dolly.  “These boxes are kinda heavy, buddy. You want ’em on the porch?”

“What’s heavy?” came Candy’s voice from the other end of the house.

“Nothing, dear. Have you seen the step ladder?”

We come now to  metamorphosis.  It’s easy enough to explain it to my 6^th  grade science students but not so easy to wives.  Basically, it refers to a transformation process—for example, from egg to caterpillar, chrysalis, pupa and finally into a butterfly. No one goes outdoors much anymore, so you don’t hear about.

For whatever reason, Candy just can’t comprehend it.  For Christmas a few years back, I bought her one of those Kitchen Pot Thingies you plug in on the kitchen counter, dump some meat and vegetables in, and when you come home, a delicious meal pops out of it. I got her a nice one, wrapped it up and hid it in the back of the den closet behind my bowling ball.

That was a mistake, I see now.  The closet was too warm, which is why I never store my tobacco there, but only in high places where the air conditioning vents can blow on them.  Apparently, the heat triggered metamorphosis. On Christmas morning when Candy opened the box, her Kitchen Pot Thingie had turned into a Neal Yarm 60 Pipe Stand (five tiers, mahogany and maple).  It was one of those miracles of science you read about, but nobody really believes. She didn’t.

Metamorphosis has happened so much over the years that I think Candy may actually be getting a grasp of this mystery.  This year, for example, she hinted she’d like a really nice cashmere sweater for Christmas.

“No problem!” I said, wondering about the balance on our “secret” credit card.

“They’re kind of expensive, though,” she said in her best tiny voice.

“Nonsense!” I replied. “I doubt they cost as much as the gold band Peterson I was looking at this morning on eBay.”

“You don’t need another pipe,” she said.”

“That’s true,” I said, “how about another cup of coffee?”–managing to escape to the kitchen before she said anything I’d regret for the rest of my life.

The cashmere sweater I got her was beautiful. Even I could see that. I took it out of the box, and like I always do, found another box to wrap it in so she’d be fooled Christmas morning.  I stashed it in the back of the den closet behind my bowling ball, about the only secret place in the whole house.

This morning—Christmas—we gathered around the tree, where the kids opened their presents and the dog running through the wrapping paper, everyone having a good time. After the kids were done, Candy and I opened our presents.  She opened the box, lifting one flap and peering into it, then nearly jumped off the sofa.

“You didn’t!” she cried.

“It’s not my fault,” I said. “It’s metamorphosis.  Blame Darwin.  Blame Mother Nature.”

“It’s much too expensive!” Then she lifted it out and draped it in front of her, petting it like wives always do.  She was right. It was too expensive.  You can’t trust Mother Nature.

“How about some Irish coffee–hold the coffee?” I said, struggling feebly to get out of my chair

“How nice,” Candy said to the dog, whose tail was thumping as I limped out.  “It’s so good to have your father back to normal.”

Christmas isn’t Christmas at PPN without a “Christmas Greeting” from Ralle Perera

There have been some wonderful Petes on eBay over the past several weeks. I’m sure you’ve noticed them, and while your short list is probably different than mine, here’s a few I especially liked:

Windcap HM 1900 Dutch Billiard, Shape.

NOS 317 Standard System, Late Republic with Box and Ephemera.

The very smallest of the Systems, but seeing this I was simply blown away. I think in the early 1980s when this appeared, it would’ve sold for $28-32 or so. The articulation of the vulcanite P-Lip bit, the grain, the stamped P on the stem. Wow.  This one sold for the same as a new 2025 smooth.

Centenary 9S with Box and Sock.

I used to love telling Pete Geeks on the blog to save those boxes! While these days there’s only two boxes, one for medium-to-high grades and one for low-to-mediums, this Centenary is a great example of what I originally meant, and while I yet to acquire one of these, it’s a beauty. While it lacks the small gold certificate, it does contain the elaborate leather pipe glove and something else quite amazing: the London Peterson shop in Burlington Gardens sticker!

HM 1894 O.2 Sterling Engraved to US President Cleveland.

Gary Malmberg and I saw this pipe some years ago, when the eBay seller contacted us for information.  After a bit of head-scratching, we came to the conclusion that it most likely really was a pipe sent by Charles Peterson (“the Patentee”) to US President Grover Cleveland.  Although Cleveland was primarily a cigar smoker, and though this pipe has been in residence in the UK for some years, Ken Sigel believes he may be able to get to the bottom of this mystery. Stay tuned!

After 500 posts over 11 years geeking about everything Peterson,
and as much enamored of K&P as ever,
PPN
is pausing for now.

Thanks for your friendship and kindness over the years,
as well as your crucial support in keeping the blog running
through Pete Geek events and donations.

Let me offer prayers for your happiness
in the New Year—
Beannachtaí na Nollag Daoibh!

take care, take care, take care
awareness
awareness
awareness

Banner and final photo courtesy D. H. Billings