Looking back, I realize that the spirit of "Grumpy Ole Bird" is woven through the fabric of my family—rooted in the perceptions, quirks, and evolving traditions that have shaped who we are. When my kids were young, they sometimes saw me as strict, a little rough around the edges. I suppose every parent, at one point, wonders how their children see them; for me, the image was colored by my routines, my moods, and—above all—my cigars.
My relationship with cigars began in earnest after I left the military and joined the police force in the late 1990s. While I’d sampled one or two cigars during my time in uniform, it was the shift to law enforcement that gave rise to a genuine ritual. Cigars became my way to unwind after long, challenging days—an anchor amid the unpredictability of police work. With each puff, I felt connected not only to myself but to a growing lineage of men in my family who found solace in similar habits.
My father, whom I lovingly nicknamed "The Grumpy Old Man" after his retirement, was at the heart of this tradition. I watched him settle into his new routine, growing a bit more irritable with each passing year, but also more contemplative. Over time, I saw pieces of myself reflected in him—his mannerisms, his stubbornness, and even the way he’d savor a drink while smoking. Our bond deepened through these shared moments; often, we’d sit together, cigars in hand, bourbon or cognac in our glasses, lost in quiet conversation. It was during these sessions that we concocted a special drink we called "the grumpy old man," a small ritual that became our own secret handshake. The drink wasn’t just a mix of spirits; it was a symbol of our connection—a way to honor our time together, and the comfort we found in each other's company. After he passed, the absence felt especially pronounced during these late-afternoon sessions, the empty chair beside me a silent testament to everything we’d shared.
One lazy Saturday, the smoke curling from my cigar, I felt compelled to honor both my dad and myself through something tangible. That’s how the Grumpy Old Bird T-shirt was born—a playful nod to our shared reputation for grumpiness, but more than that, a celebration of our unique family tradition. Wearing it, I felt a sense of belonging, a reminder that the rituals we create can carry meaning far beyond their surface.
Of course, family traditions aren’t just solemn and sentimental—they’re also about fun, especially when my cousin Darrell, or "Big Bird," got involved. Our ash competitions became legendary. We’d text each other photos, the challenge simple: whose cigar ash would last the longest without crumbling? I remember one particular evening—I was convinced that I could beat his record. We were both sitting on our patios miles apart, sending updates every few minutes. Our banter gave rise to the phrase “Watch Your Ash,” a lighthearted warning that became an inside joke, a symbol of our competitive camaraderie and the joy embedded in these moments.