This afternoon was as perfect as they come around here late in the summer. I smoked a Macanudo cigar, part of a variety pack received with my last order, the first Macanudo I've enjoyed for a quarter century, as I reveled in the sunshine on my home deck overlooking Pelican Lake, sipped some smooth shiraz, and gave in to a lazy, dreamy, mid-August haze.
Twenty-five years ago your dad brought me a box of Macanudos on his first visit. Today's cigar was wonderful, but richly enhanced with my fond memories of the times he and I spent together.
As the Macanudo smoke hung deliciously over my spot on the deck today, I recalled our moments at camp, the stories (many of them probably true) your dad belted out like a great piano player, and our elbows-on-the-table discussions that went on and on, as if inspired by some kind of magic.
I think your dad had a beautiful balance between wisdom and humor, and combined them as only he and Samuel Clemens could get away with.
Ain't it funny... a special cigar, a wonderful setting, and memories that spread like warm chocolate on a biscuit.
Your dad, Dick Belding, was a gem.