New Member, introduction for andythebeagle...
Feb 20, 2019 0:30:44 GMT -5
JimInks, sperrytops, and 12 more like this
Post by andythebeagle on Feb 20, 2019 0:30:44 GMT -5
I screw things up a lot. That's because I'm not as brite as I Like to think I am, have ADHD, am dyslexic and I think somewhat autistic.
None of what my life was like as a child exists any more, because the world invaded that part of the country.
I will give you a bit if a back story so you can put everything into perspective. I come from Southern Appalachian Hillbilly stock. All my folks came from the coal mining area of West Virginia. A few even ended up in Eastern Tennessee. I'm of Shawnee, German and Irish stock. I was brought up in what we now know as poverty. We never knew we were poor, because there was no way to compare with those who weren't. Everyone I knew were poor and everyone had deep connections to the coal mines or pulp wood. There weren't any "modern conveniences" like phones, cars, school buses, radio, TV, or even news papers. The world was very small and none of us really knew any other part of the world even existed. A trip to the company store was an all day trip that meant we hitched a team, climbed in a wagon with enough food for the day, all the kids and dogs and left around 6AM after planning for a week. My dad had to walk to work, I remember thinking a very long way, and he was always exhausted and angry.
My first taste of tobacco was when I was 8 years old and my grand dad decided it was time for me to learn how to roll my own. Out came his Prince Albert can along with OCB or Riz La papers, no glue, and I practiced under his watchful eye until I got it right. My mom had a fit when she found out, but it was too late. I was a committed smoker along with all the rest of the kids in the area. We were all either smoking or chewing by age 10 or so.
My first pipe was a cob. I was 12, and it was common to see everyone with a cob. No one knew anything about a briar, and besides, that's all the company store carried. Half and Half, Prince Albert, Bugler, Bull Durham (in a cloth bag with a string) rolling papers, and chew. Mail Pouch or nothing. My grand dad loved Copenhagen. Me? I still chew and rub me a little Copenhagen.
It was a great and wonderful life that now, at 75, I'm sorry to see is no longer.
When I was around 13, we joined the mass migration from that life to end up in New York State, just South of Rochester. That was in 1957. Life was turned upside down for me and I still feel out of place in this century. I live downtown Rochester now, and I love this city.
I've had a great and interesting life so far, with experiences that have kept me eager for more, and hoping I can live for a lot longer.
I've done things that a lot of people would give their right arm for. I will list them for your entertainment. I'm a blue collar person with a blue collar mind and way of living, and would never change even a moment of it. 1st up, a US Navy veteran of 7 years. Spent that time in the North Atlantic aboard a Tin Can. Auto and truck mechanic, wood worker, carpenter, black smith, farrier, leather worker (making harness and other tack) I tried coopering but couldn't get it right. In my 30s I quit work and graduated from college with a paper that said I was a Mechanical Engineer, was a school teacher for a while (shop and other artsy type things) drove big trucks when the job market died, managed a machine shop as a surgical instrument designer and maker (the other guys were much better at it than I was) and at one time my dad even tried to teach me watch making. He was THE best watch maker ever. I was also a musician for over 20 years playing the tuba. A few years back I had to quit that after a stroke. I played in several bands and a local symphony orchestra. Favorite music? Jazz and classical.
None of what my life was like as a child exists any more, because the world invaded that part of the country.
I will give you a bit if a back story so you can put everything into perspective. I come from Southern Appalachian Hillbilly stock. All my folks came from the coal mining area of West Virginia. A few even ended up in Eastern Tennessee. I'm of Shawnee, German and Irish stock. I was brought up in what we now know as poverty. We never knew we were poor, because there was no way to compare with those who weren't. Everyone I knew were poor and everyone had deep connections to the coal mines or pulp wood. There weren't any "modern conveniences" like phones, cars, school buses, radio, TV, or even news papers. The world was very small and none of us really knew any other part of the world even existed. A trip to the company store was an all day trip that meant we hitched a team, climbed in a wagon with enough food for the day, all the kids and dogs and left around 6AM after planning for a week. My dad had to walk to work, I remember thinking a very long way, and he was always exhausted and angry.
My first taste of tobacco was when I was 8 years old and my grand dad decided it was time for me to learn how to roll my own. Out came his Prince Albert can along with OCB or Riz La papers, no glue, and I practiced under his watchful eye until I got it right. My mom had a fit when she found out, but it was too late. I was a committed smoker along with all the rest of the kids in the area. We were all either smoking or chewing by age 10 or so.
My first pipe was a cob. I was 12, and it was common to see everyone with a cob. No one knew anything about a briar, and besides, that's all the company store carried. Half and Half, Prince Albert, Bugler, Bull Durham (in a cloth bag with a string) rolling papers, and chew. Mail Pouch or nothing. My grand dad loved Copenhagen. Me? I still chew and rub me a little Copenhagen.
Mostly, there wasn't any work for anyone and we lived off the land. We had a "dirt farm" and raised ALL our food or hunted. We farmed with horses and mules, had a small dairy herd and goats. The chickens were my pets as well as dinner, and the pigs were playful and friendly. My grand dad was a real Mountain Man who knew more crafts and had survival skills we all have only heard of and never knew really existed. He taught all us kids everything he knew, even how to trap, hunt rattle snakes and gin sang, and how to make everything we needed for the house from split oak or willow.
When I was around 13, we joined the mass migration from that life to end up in New York State, just South of Rochester. That was in 1957. Life was turned upside down for me and I still feel out of place in this century. I live downtown Rochester now, and I love this city.
I've had a great and interesting life so far, with experiences that have kept me eager for more, and hoping I can live for a lot longer.
I've done things that a lot of people would give their right arm for. I will list them for your entertainment. I'm a blue collar person with a blue collar mind and way of living, and would never change even a moment of it. 1st up, a US Navy veteran of 7 years. Spent that time in the North Atlantic aboard a Tin Can. Auto and truck mechanic, wood worker, carpenter, black smith, farrier, leather worker (making harness and other tack) I tried coopering but couldn't get it right. In my 30s I quit work and graduated from college with a paper that said I was a Mechanical Engineer, was a school teacher for a while (shop and other artsy type things) drove big trucks when the job market died, managed a machine shop as a surgical instrument designer and maker (the other guys were much better at it than I was) and at one time my dad even tried to teach me watch making. He was THE best watch maker ever. I was also a musician for over 20 years playing the tuba. A few years back I had to quit that after a stroke. I played in several bands and a local symphony orchestra. Favorite music? Jazz and classical.
Now, I'm retired with a lot of time on my hands and after discovering Estate Pipes on eBay, and getting a terminal case of PAD, and subsequent TAD, here I am. My very first briar was a Dr. Grabow. That's all I know about it. I was 16 or so and I remember smoking it to death. My first and only choice in tobacco has always been Prince Albert, with a few excursions into a few other typical American OTC drug store burleys. I always came back to PA. It was my go to, even if I had others on hand. There are some additional favorites among the aromatics and of course, other burleys. Peter Stokkebey does some wonderful things to burley tobacco, along with Lane. Most of the other companies sorta suck at it, with only a few exceptional individual blends.
I've given up on PA. After all these years, they changed the blend and the cut so much that, for me, it became unsmokable because of terrible tongue bite. Now, my go to is Peter Stokkebey 702 Burley. It is absolutely, the best Burley I have ever smoked. I've discovered several other very good blends, and really enjoy most of them. Some are just, well, terrible.
Glad to have you.
Welcome from Cajun Land , my family mirrors yours, but in Acadiana, poor, hard working, Grandfather was a farmer, trapper, repaired everything himself. You’re in good company.
