Silliness, Sickness, Sadness, and Cigars

Silliness

In this post, I’m going to share my life over the past 15 years, laying it all out for you.

First, a little about me: I’m 71 years old and a retired railroader. I began my career with the Southern Pacific Railroad in 1972 and retired from the Union Pacific, which absorbed Southern Pacific in 1996, in 2019. That’s 47 years, 4 months, and 8 days—though who's counting?

My exposure to cigars was quite limited until the last eight years of my railroad career. I became a cigar mule for my friends in Dunsmuir, a small town at the base of Mount Shasta in California. They couldn’t find quality cigars locally, but they knew I frequented a fine cigar lounge in Loomis, where I could get quality cigars at reasonable prices. I would gather their requests, visit the lounge, and even though I wasn’t a cigar aficionado at the time, I enjoyed chatting with the gentlemen there about life in general.

Then, two days before my 65th birthday and one day before signing my retirement papers, my relationship with cigars changed forever. After my last working trip as an engineer, I put my train away for the final time and headed straight to my favorite lounge. I told the tobacconist that I was ready to start my journey with cigars.

“Where should I start?” I asked. He took me to what was affectionately known as The Black Cabinet and produced a beautiful cigar: the Terrior by Chinnock Cellars Cigars. “Let’s start with this,” he said, guiding me through the proper procedures for preparing and lighting the cigar. As I lit it, he smiled and pointed to the lounge, saying, “Enjoy.”

As I sat there smoking, the 5 o’clock crowd began to filter in. When they saw me enjoying a cigar, smiles spread across their faces. They grabbed their favorite cigars, lit up, and joined me. Suddenly, I was no longer just an acquaintance; I had become one of the brothers of the leaf. Friendships blossomed, and what started as casual acquaintances turned into close bonds.

Sickness and Sadness

In 2020-21, after COVID hit, my wife and I decided to sell our property in California and move to the great state of Idaho. Even here, I continued to enjoy cigars, finding local lounges and making new friends while missing those from California.

However, in 2023, personal tragedy struck. My wife of nearly 40 years was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in December 2022 and passed away in February 2023. Her biggest worry was that I would be alone when she went to be with God. One day, after a doctor’s appointment, I stopped by the local lounge to drop something off for a friend. When I mentioned I had to get my wife home, he immediately went out to speak with her, offering encouragement about her illness. When she expressed her concern about me being alone, he reassured her, “We’ve got his back. Don’t worry about him.”

Shortly after, serious complications arose, and she passed away. But the word got out, and to this day, my brothers and sisters of the leaf have truly had my back.

At her celebration of life, the largest group present wasn’t just family; it was my friends—my brothers and sisters of the leaf—showing their support. On that day, a box of cigars was shared among my friends, and we blew a lot of good smoke her way.

Not long after, I found out I had throat cancer. During the appointment when the doctor confirmed it, my daughter asked, “Does that mean my dad will be giving up cigars?” The doctor looked over his shoulder and replied, “Why, that’s not what caused it.”

For months, I underwent targeted radiation and chemotherapy. Every day, one of my brothers or sisters of the leaf would call to check on me, and one or two times a week, someone would show up at my door. Even when I wasn’t feeling up to smoking, we would sit in my smoking area, and while they enjoyed their cigars, we would talk about cigars and life in general.

That cancer went into remission, my taste returned, and I started enjoying cigars again with my friends. Health issues have arisen again, but once more, my greatest support comes from my brothers and sisters of the leaf.

In closing, I can say that my greatest support has come from a hand-rolled natural product called a cigar. For that, I will forever be grateful.