![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_ueBmbgpEQM-QZI2ReEZAcqMEM2mDdYzT75okRIYMcwq0gH9JIaoHxkIioRYAMQPbuAdDsTzARee6i7hDb-29m0dsY1chdkIYmZsoThWaFBJef0NdXIR_r_gxxLcEWaGTPgdA=s0-d)
Da Boyz, we meet most Sunday afternoons at the cigar store. We smoke, watch some TV, laugh, cry, complain about life, the government, crime, taxes, the cost of living; no subject is exempt from our examination.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sRV3bFIejGX3Rh37RjdGkqfMI51Ls-VtQRkr7bjQ0R_tSecTIc1bW7an7ua7KYCRgYIsOdtxBomdpZqaCf-MppUlHJQasZgdPEqi3fBQUot2W-f4MC1fBZGkZKpYZEy2bNGw=s0-d)
Ed's been working at the store for a few years, oscillates back and forth between the front counter, where he plays helpful cigar store employee to the ever-present, new-to-cigars customer ("I need a good cigar for my boyfriend/husband/father/brother"), then rejoins Da Boyz for another few minutes of humorous quips, wise-cracks and one-liners, until the bell over the door rings with the arrival of another customer.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_tVrn6c6UoG-1EGm-Tsc0pTwvnsYzxVFBxNduAPpUbxRXTIj55h4lpkoVjYlypG2RWi8fj_Ao4bM8X4q4QFxUUGykh4MdfHf-n_lNJHaDcM4kj1jFUs60bFZiNmmE5bP5CzMQ=s0-d)
Some of the necessary aethetics: analog watch and a good smoke.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_u57SPJvDHh8RDRaXavfHgidb-zv2hND9LR3RFcyulh80VELqGE7TUPwsh15GEeLxAfdv5hGcL8hxSbtXWcEEY0xjWlANATlzq4H-v3dmalRJtnOjGhPHdVOOA4RHGBKJjs=s0-d)
Michael, son-in-law of the other Michael, joins us this afternoon. He prefers to relight using wooden matches. Others, they prefer the fancy gas-filled torches. Me, I use a Zippo. I like its metallic snick and mechanical simplicity. Each to their own.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sET0GOs3BfaeCL0_Yip9OFWox_j5BUWuZgQeq5AVEsMTWuW4wy3IZbNvsx41KHREFtHSWC3rl5BQ4UZrH-Od4rZbYBCTke21D8xVUCDmPPlQER0MOW8rDfiHI_Jiy3GN2C8Q=s0-d)
The other Michael, the group's most faithful participant. He can be deadly serious, but also deadly funny. Jokes-a-minute; humorous observations about every aspect of life are nonstop.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_v7r4ktaThdXx9DvqhoOXTkPtTOh_GkJmHyGJxXWYZ22lmkjvT3I8X_jKEcVqfA-Y-DOaXIETD_9GaU-78yjiShXW5FekVtB0oGAjC-haViENb6MSNyffEVLwByvuJHkd_mFQ=s0-d)
Today, while watching Nascar, the subject of Bob Seager's song "Night Moves" came up. Naturally, Michael pulls up the YouTube video on his Blackberry, serenading the smooth-talking announcers on the tube.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sf1ScstwCu94hrYq1NdqKHsyepTFLkI1XMJ18s9nSsSVWkpiI9_9MtvoN-4HMrMqJ1vdWD0ZiCja7EvJR4aUE8TxGCyFKmh5T4QLmijYvCfeAF7YO8cU22ds5raWT2psU66w=s0-d)
Like some kind of aroma-emitting hourglass, our time spent together is measured in inches.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_tuzJ7sR8xknauv6OiQrH8rFxFyMDDEEDiqvinXsputBPxnWzEklD7bq5MYcbBSf2bvLApk4iTQUdK2MIFFeJUhdfs4l5AcvY0m8uQdJVa4cbf7z2RXwCftPi2SVapek7EBtQ=s0-d)
There's no set meeting time, each participant shows up at their personal appointed time. Now we find Dave's joined us for a smoke. We switch the TV back and forth between golf and Nascar. Quaint cultural cross-references between the two sports fly back and forth, zingers penetrating the ever-thickening haze. Tears, of laughter, are wiped away during the brief moments of respite.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_t3DkGey2Y9wBXuFqOTOglDbFzbS_ueKYDWcv-IClJFgB1ndUtlWk6rTE_bAioFKRiR4lk0xBNClu6qUSCcqZvSFGdexTHUurzypoW4C-otKcbEqG6JGY4j58IBxMT1E64oMA=s0-d)
And then, at his usual later in the afternoon time, Dennis joins us, taking the seating spot from where Michael Jr. departed.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_vW5X9b0rf6vDb851bdcW0ZrzchM6RddyOpLs8xO53OcSGTOXHGHz5_yxYTzH8Kzky12I21teMtH0jJvSR11ZBzqpx2x8IE6DD8dRQdxd9zA53KejDnY8Q59vhYdkDtwSE1yQ=s0-d)
Now things are rolling; our guts are aching from the laughter. We ponder the improbable, like what would happen if Nascar culture were transplanted onto the staid, groomed and cultured fairways of the PGA.
![](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sikISvOybJbXIhb-5Brwam0_G2ELAYcFFGWkj4Hkh4xnWEb_mWyX1pedZXLcnZ7v4QWhKk1gmf5Mwjn9bHVKswA8np6Rl89Z9T-IJSDfRmjaz30KKCvQzfM-ILwn3KMEdR=s0-d)
Closing time nears, just a few of us die-hards remain. Dave dons his shades, preparing for the glare of the afternoon sun. We've smoked our stoggies, shared our jokes and stories, and somehow life seems a bit lighter. This will have to take us through the rest of the week until, next Sunday, Da Boyz regroup for another go-around.
(All photos captured with the micro-4/3 Lumix G1 camera, ISO1000, using a manually adapted Minolta MD 50mm lens at f/1.7, and also the stellar-performing Lumix 20mm pancake lens, also at f/1.7.)
2 Comments:
Great pictures, you have that great black and white eye! Sounds like good fun, I prefer pipe tobacco to cigar though, but it's nearly the same. Did you write this on the Neo? My AS has been seeing a ton of use lately, just replaced the batteries last night.
Thanks, James.
The B/W photography with the G1 is aided by using the camera's Dynamic B/W film mode, which gives me a B/W image in the electronic viewfinder. The RAW files I process with my own tweaks, however; mainly curves and contrast centering.
Regarding the text, I wrote that at the last minute, directly into my blog's input field, right after I linked the photos from Flikr.
~Joe
Post a Comment
<< Home