Stogie Smell

July 8, 2018

The aroma was delicious! It’s a fragrance all the more welcome for its rarity and perhaps just a little, for its political incorrectness. I don’t understand it. I’ve tried it myself, and couldn’t see the attraction, but second-hand, to me it’s heavenly. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of my childhood when my grandfather would take my brother and me to watch the Rochester Red Wings play ball in old Silver Stadium. I can still conjure up images of the stands filled with mostly old (to a nine-year old) men in suits, white shirts, ties loosened at the neck, and wearing fedoras to almost the last man. The summer air was heavy, and you could see the pall of smoke that hung over the stadium. Probably three quarters of those hundreds of men were sucking on stogies. When I go to a ballgame today, it just doesn’t smell right anymore.

On one of our mission trips to Cuba, I figured that “when in Rome, do as the Romans do,” which meant trying out a genuine Cuban cigar. Yeah, it didn’t go so well. I didn’t get sick, or anything like that, but that experience did make me wonder what entices people to inhale that stuff. It’s not for me, but I must confess that I am often nostalgic for the smell of an old-time ballgame. 

This afternoon, we went to a graduation party where the grandfather of the girl in whose honor the party was being held, sat puffing on a fat cigar. I deliberately sat downwind of him, and have to admit I was a bit disappointed when he finally got to the end of it. I closed my eyes and was immediately transported nearly sixty years back in time, sitting beside my grandfather who was one of many old men happily puffing away and enjoying the game. Those days are long gone, and I suppose it’s for our own good, but it’s a good memory, and only takes one whiff of someone else’s cigar to take me there. And even if it’s not considered quite kosher for a Methodist pastor to take pleasure in such things, I do so unapologetically. And tonight, I give thanks for it. Thank you, Mr. Maione!