Cigars on the Homefront
Some of you out there have the distinct pleasure of being allowed to smoke cigars in your homes. I envy you. I talk to some who are surprised that my wife doesn’t allow it. Some act as if everyone smokes in their home… don’t they? NO they don’t. While my wife isn’t a smoke Nazi. she detests smoking and makes sure to tell me how bad I stink after I enjoy a cigar. Oh, I’ve snuck it a few times. When the weather is nice I’ll put a box fan in the window, seal the office door with tape, and puff a good cigar while I write. Afterwards, I’ll hose down the rug with Febreeze and wash my clothes, but like a bloodhound, she still smells it.
“Why does it smell like smoke? You had a cigar in the house! You were smoking, weren’t you? WEREN’T YOU?!!!!!”
I’ve also tried smoking in front of the fireplace – my one friend says “It’s fool proof, she won’t smell a thing.” Well, I guess I’m a bigger fool than I thought because while it works decent, it’s not nearly enough to circumvent the smoke warden from 
hell. The problem is that in the home, the smoke goes into the vents and travels all throughout the house.
I absolutely love to smoke a cigar while I’m writing and what I wouldn’t give to have an office professionally sealed off with the best smoke eating device money can buy. I can’t explain it but it relaxes me so and puts me into some kind of meditative state. When I had my advertising business, I would open the windows after everyone left and light up. I would stay for hours on end as long as my leafy brown friend decided to hang with me. That same office used to be only five minutes away from JR Cigars in Whippany, New Jersey, and in the afternoons, I’d often bring my laptop there and revel in the scent of premium-aged tobacco.
I wrote a feature story a while back in Cigar Magazine about the positive effects that cigar smoking has on your mental state. Online I found an article from the New York Times that I believe was from 1910. The author surveyed 100 people from that era who were authors, poets, novelists, and playwrights – all who smoked – and asked if they felt that the act of smoking aided in the creative process. It was overwhelming what the writers had to say about their precious tobacco. Of course cigars, cigarettes, and pipes were all included, and even though I focused on the cigar lovers, those who smoked while they worked claimed it was a tremendous benefit and swore how it relaxed the mind and allowed the universe to work its magic through their souls. Some got to the point where they simply could not go into creative mode without the accompaniment of a smoke. Much like lighting incense for meditation, it’s the scent and the repetition of the physical act that puts you into state. Hey, the same thing happens when you light a cigar on the back deck, in the garage, or on the golf course. Your mind goes into a relaxed state and all around is good. Like the scribes from the NY Times article, a good cigar tells my mind and my body that everything is good, everything is right, and creating becomes so much easier.
Some have referred to me as a wuss and ask who wears the pants in my family, yada, yada, yada. But please understand – my wife is an incessant nag, and the nagging is enough to send one off the proverbial deep end. To those who think I’m being cruel about my spouse – you don’t know her. Nagging is in her blood and she’s done it since the day I met her. She doesn’t know she’s doing it, and it’s not to be harmful or out of spite. It’s just a congenital trait of hers and there are days I’d rather pour bleach into my eyes that deal with it. So, go ahead, call me a wuss and taunt me with your belittling barbs – It has NOTHING to do with growing a pair – I choose not to smoke in my home out of self-preservation.
Again I say, I envy you who enjoy your cigars within your domicile – especially during the long winter months where the back deck or the golf course is simply not an option. Wow, I’m craving a delicious, fragrant cigar right this very moment. Hmmm. JR is only half an hour away and a Nicaraguan lunch is just what then doctor ordered.
Tommy Z.
JR CIGARS Blog with the Zman
