The scent of cigar smoke and freshly clipped grass are forever in my memory. I can't smell one without thinking of the other. Together, they always suggest Saturday mornings to me. That was when my father embarked on his weekly ritual mowing the lawn, striding behind the Того with a white Owl firmly clamped in his mouth. My cigar odyssey began more than twelve years ago, when as a young man of fifteen I would steal my father's cigars. For many years I watched the great men in my life celebrate their triumphs, and relax with a cigar. Consequently, I began to consider cigars as a symbol of success. Every evening I sit with a cigar in my hand and go over the day's activities in my mind. What I did do, and what I didn't do, and what I should have accomplished. A cigar gives me a chance to relax and think. Smoking a hand-rolled Cuban cigar is one of life's last great pleasures for me. My favourite setting for a smoke is after dinner with friends, sitting outside on the porch at a restaurant on Long Island, accompanied by a strong Colombian coffee. Occasionally, I share a smoke with my wife as I know I look good with a cigar. I should as well admit that my wife looks like a complete knockout with a cigar.
Yes, a good aged cigar is absolutely fantastic. I reserve some when I want to give myself a treat.
B. What's your attitude toward smoking? Discuss it in your group.
