The Chief and Betty Lou were passionate people. Their passion for each other was matched by an equally fierce passion against each other. But I knew that no matter how vicious a fight sounded, no matter how nasty the threats, no matter how many things got thrown or broken, they would not really physically hurt each other. Often when the storms raged I would hold my terrified little sister and assure her that they were not killing each other, just ironing out a few differences of opinion. And after the sounds of their passionate fights faded, they would be replaced with the sounds of the other end of the spectrum.
Betty Lou often told me the that only time she ever felt that the Chief might actually do her in came early in their marriage.
The Chief was a pipe-smoker; not just a casual pipe-smoker, but a full-on, paraphernalia-laden, studied, serious pipe collector. I remember the clear glass humidors full of various blends of tobacco with their wooden tops and a slice of apple in each one to keep things moist enough. He had numerous pouches; each with an aromatic blend fit for various occasions, collected from a far corner of the world. He had a leather folder full of picks, tamps, reamers, cleaners, and other implements about which I had no clue concering their use. But all of these things were secondary, in support of his grand possessions: his pipe collection. The Chief sailed all around the world. Every port held its special possibility for a pipe purchase. He had Briars, Meerschaums, Medicos, and dozens of others that I can't name but I am sure were valuable. He had pipes that were straight, bent, corncob, carved clay, and one from china carved out of a jade-looking stone.
One of the most important characteristics of a pipe is the way it is maintained. Careful scraping and reaming are necessary to develop the correct "cake", the carbon build-up in the bowl that affects the way a pipe burns and how the air flows through the tobacco. The cake has to be thick enough to insulate and facilitate the burn, but not so thick as to impair it. It is a delicate balance and it takes some time to "break in" a new pipe and develop a proper cake. Once it has been developed, constant maintenance is necessary to keep it at the correct thickness. Do I sound like a pipe-smoker's son?
Told you all that so I could tell you this: Betty Lou wanted to be a good wife. She was raised by a Pennsylvania Dutch family to whom cleanliness was indeed next to Godliness. One day, looking for something "nice" to do for the Chief, Betty Lou decided to clean his pipes. She cleaned them as they had never been cleaned before. She put them in a sink full of hot soapy water and scrubbed and scraped and worked on each one until they were shiny and bright and free of all that nasty carbon build-up in the bowls. She spent most of the day on her chore and finished up shortly before the Chief got home. She put them all away in their racks and anxiously awaited the moment of the "Big Surprise".
The "Big Surprise" was memorable. The Chief stood stunned and speechless as she proudly displayed the fruits of her labor. She thought he was that way in utter gratitude and awe that she had done such a fine thing. He was soooo quiet. He didn't stay that way. The explosion was about the same magnitude as the Hiroshima A-Bomb. And about as devastating. Then it was Betty Lou who stood stunned and silent. Again not for long. Then it was on. They raged and carried on for quite a while before the tide ebbed and sound levels approached normal. When it was over a couple of things had been settled. First and foremost came the making up...they really did love each other. Second: Betty Lou understood that pipes were not on her list of things to clean...or even touch. And third: Betty Lou also understood the magnitude of her mistake and came to realize how much effort had gone into blah blah blah. She nodded and displayed the proper amount of humility and contrition...actually I don't think she ever really cared. But the making up was fun.
This wasn't the end of the Chief's pipe-smoking days, but he was never the same about it again. He was able to salvage a few of his pipes (aside from the uninitiated scraping ruining the cake, Bettgy Lou also gouged chunks out of the bowl and the water about sealed the fate for most of the pipes). He still kept a few at home, but I rarely saw him smoke one after that. He told me he kept a few on the ship and sometimes enjoyed a quiet pipe while at sea. But it seemed to me that his heart just wasn't in it like it used to be. I considered taking up a pipe when I was in high school. When I mentioned it to him and all he said was, "Yeah? Well...don't let your mom clean 'em for you."