Excepting those of us lucky enough to be born with a pipe in hand, a battered copy of "To Kill A Mockingbird" in our pocket, and a head full of aphorisms, most of us go through some sort of second maturation from young adult to full-fledged adult. For me, graduating into real adulthood in my late 20s involved letting go of social expectations that fueled ill will toward those around me.

It wasn't too long ago, at least in the scheme of things, that pipe smoking was considered a solitary endeavour, if indeed it was considered at all. How then, did we go from pipes as a utilitarian object to a celebrated and treasured companion and, increasingly, a work of art in itself?