Jim Rosenau

My elk antler pipe, dating to when I was 15, is the earliest object I made that’s still with me. Yes, I started smoking pot too young, but I’ve enjoyed it ever since.

My friend Cliff brought the antler from Jackson, WY, where he collected it on the elk refuge during his family’s summer vacation.

As a kid I had few tools at my disposal and managed this with just my father’s hacksaw and a set of carving tools my parents gave me. I used a narrow gouge to ream out the inner pith and carved the bowl with another gouge.

I am sure of this because while carving late at night I slipped and cut my palm badly enough to need a bandage. In our house, these were kept in my parents’ medicine cabinet. I went upstairs, quietly opened their door and saw my father on top of my mother in her twin bed. He saw me. Though I understood what they were up to, I proceeded to the bathroom because I was bleeding. We never discussed this, nor much of any intimacy. In fact, I don’t recall ever seeing them kiss, hug, or even fight. Shortly after this they were divorced.

Pot today is so much stronger than it was in the ‘70s that this pipe’s large bowl is archaic. You just don’t need more than a toke or three these days. Though I haven’t used it in decades, I’m saving it as grave goods for my next life.