Tell me, Mac, what was in your smoke? As you stood gazing from the bridge off Leyte – mourning the blood of iron-eyed, green-muscled and loyal boys – was it heartache or rage curling up from that long cob? Tell me, Mac, were you able to draw just a little serenity, a little stolidity through that long, fibrous reed? Did those cob-bound embers send a little peace along? Tell me, Mac, what was in your smoke?

Tell me, Bill, what was in your smoke? Does a first whiff of a fine ribbon-cut ember banish that early-morning-moldy smell seeping out from those Yoknapatawpha walls? What’s hot briar like on a hotter morning, anyway? Does a sweat-dappled typewriter key jam up faster? Tell me, Bill, how do you conjure Flem Snopes’ story when Betty, Bogie, and Hoagy won’t leave your memory alone? Tell me, Bill, do magnolias still smell a little like lemons when you’re having your porch swing pipe? 

Tell me, Errol, what was in your smoke? On those breaks from hot lights and hotter women, was your pipe with you? Or was it just another prop? Did all your lovers know about your enlarged heart? Did they know that it couldn’t help you love them more?  Did Bette, Maureen, or Olivia ever complain about the taste of pipe after those long, lascivious kisses? Were pipes and pints with David de rigueur after cricket? What was it like to smoke with your pal Fidel? Tell me, Errol, what was in your smoke?

Tell me, Gerry, what was in your smoke? What did you know and when did you know it? Is a man alone with Nixon even more alone? Tell me, Gerry, are you a clencher? Does a man who knows what you know - who decides what you decide - does a man like you chew your stems? It must be wonderful to have your job. I mean, if somebody doesn’t like your tobacco’s room note, who’s going to tell you to put it out? Thank you for being there for us, Gerry.  You came along at a time when only a pipe man would do. Tell me, Gerry, what was in your smoke?

Tell me, Professor, what was in your smoke? If a pipe helps a man think, how did you survive your own genius, in there all by yourself? Just how much clockwork insight can any one man stand? Is God malicious? Have you settled that? Tell me, Professor, when you joined the Montreal Pipe Smokers Club, did you bask in amiability or were you suckered, like me, into arguing the relative virtue of one pipe over another? Tell me, Albert, since you have cracked the code of the cosmos; will you please explain the mysteries of pipe engineering to me? Tell me, Professor, what was in your smoke?