Dad died five years ago. When he passed away, he left a stash of recently purchased cigars. As the sole family member with any interest in cigars, these boxes passed to me as part of my inheritance. I’ve smoked Dad’s cigars on special occasions: law school acceptance, graduation, passing the bar, being hired. Yesterday, I smoked the next-to-last cigar remaining.
I lit it using matches Dad had taken from the Baltschug Kempinski Hotel in Moscow. This was the hotel I arranged for my parents when they came to visit me when I was working for Apple there in Summer 1993. The hotel looks down on Red Square and the walls of the Kremlin; it was one of their favorite travel hotels of all time. After a few days visiting me there, he and Mom left on a train for Beijing, the most adventurous trip they ever took.
Transiberian Railway 1993
While smoking, I’m reading what is probably the last travel book by Paul Theroux. His first travel book, The Great Railway Bazaar was one of Dad’s favorites. Thus, this Father’s Day is spent, at least partially, in homage to Dad.