MY BABY GAVE ME CIGARS

My ‘Baby’ (anyone remembering 1960’s lingo would get this), was 6’2” … so I called him Babe ;-)

My Grandfather Ball – my mother’s father – smoked fancy Cuban Cigars … and I loved the smell of them on him.

One time after we got married, some fella who worked with Bob came to work passing out cigars when his wife gave birth – Bob hated cigars, but he brought it home. When I was cleaning his lunch box to get it ready for the next day’s lunch, I saw the cigar and asked him about it. Bob said he took the cigar because the fella was so happy to be passing them out. I asked Bob if he was going to smoke it – Bob said, “No.”

So, I asked if I could.

Bob laughed.

He said the image of me smoking a stogie that was a long as his hand … and he had BIG HANDS … tickled his funny bone: but he gave it to me.

And laughed the entire time I smoked that thing down to nothing ;-)

I loved cigars; I loved the smell of them, and the taste of them.

Ever after that, when a fella was passing out cigars, Bob would get one and bring it home to me - presenting it with a flourish & a chuckle :-D

I sure MISS Bob.

I miss his twinkling eyes when he was giving me something that would guarantee pleasure for me; and a good night’s entertainment for him ;-)