I returned to Nashville yesterday, after a week of working alongside my “Padrino,” Ernesto Perez-Carrillo, Jr., at Tabacalera La Alianza, S.A., in Santiago (Dominican Republic).

To many cigar enthusiasts out there, that might sound like a glamorous ‘pleasure trip’ of a lifetime. Well, I hate to burst your collective bubbles, but it’s not; it’s work. Plain and simple. It’s spending 10-12 hours a day in a factory, evaluating samples, validating tobaccos, creating new blends, discussing future plans, all while continuing to work with our headquarters in Nashville from a laptop perched in an office above the factory floor.

Ok, maybe that does sound pretty good to anyone who’s passionate about cigars–but do it while you’re missing home, can’t get any decent sleep, have to brush your teeth with a bottle of water, can’t eat any fruit or vegetables, and there’s a guard with a loaded shotgun standing outside of just about everywhere you go. Now here’s the ultimate contradiction: working at the factory is one of the aspects of what I do that I enjoy the most. You can read every cigar magazine, check out every cigar blog on a daily basis, smoke every cigar on your retail tobacconist’s shelf, go to every cigar event, watch someone ‘roll‘ cigars at some event (which, more than often, is just someone applying a wrapper to a pre-bunched group of leaves)–you can do all of that–and you still won’t appreciate cigars like you do after you’ve spent time at a factory. What is it that the factory teaches you that those other things don’t and won’t?

What being at the factory has taught me is perspective. It’s given me the perspective of what is actually involved in creating cigars–how many hands are involved, how laborious the individual tasks are, how intricate the process is when performed correctly. Evaluating, validating, selecting, processing, fermenting, blending…all of the steps that happen before you even see a cigar being rolled. It’s equal parts experience, instinct, knowledge, and a pseudo-spiritual-connection to the earth. It is this mystical romance of the leaf that hooked me some 17 years ago when I decided this is what I wanted to–no, had to–do for a living. It’s given me a perspective that keeps me humble. It’s the perspective that, even after 17 years, there are people like Ernesto who will forget more about tobacco than I will ever learn.

Spending time at the factory has also given me a perspective about things bigger than just cigars, too. It’s given me the perspective of people, life, and how fortunate we truly are here. If you’re reading this right now, you’re most likely sitting in front of a computer. You probably either own that computer, or work for a company that pays you to be in front of that computer. Your computer is most likely inside your office or your house, and you’re sheltered from the elements outside you right now. You don’t know how good you have it; yet, it’s customary to gripe and complain about our jobs, our lives, our circumstances. Indulge me and let me tell you about something that I witnessed this week while down in Santiago that may give you ‘perspective.’

This past Wednesday night, Ernesto had picked me up in his SUV and we were driving to get dinner. As often happens down there when you’re stopped at a red light, someone approached the vehicle, asking for money. Ernesto rolled down his window, engaged in a brief conversation with this lady, and then generously gave her some money before she moved along on her way to the next car stopped at the light. When I glanced over at this lady, I could only see her face in view above Ernesto’s driver’s-side door. She seemed to be in her early 30‘s, she had a broad smile on her face, and what appeared to be a pleasant and happy disposition about her. Ernesto then rolled his window back up and said, “Bro–did you see that?–that poor woman had a wooden stick for a leg.”

Then, it really struck me–I’d only seen that woman from the neck up and judged her by her seemingly happy and smiling face. I literally didn’t know the half of her story until Ernesto told me about her missing leg. I began to think about how despite her circumstances–despite missing a leg, despite being forced to panhandle on the streets of Santiago in order to survive and feed herself and/or her family–she had a cheerful smile on her face. She seemed genuinely ‘happy.‘ That’s not a perspective that I get often here in the States, where it’s more customary to gripe about the garbage disposal being broken, or how bad the traffic is while we’re sitting in an air-conditioned car and listening to Pandora radio.

At the end of the day, this past week was a successful week at Tabacalera La Alianza for Crowned Heads. We put the finishing touches on what will soon be the release of our 2013 Limited Edition cigar (October), made great strides towards the development of a blend that is slated to be our fourth core brand release (July 2014), and made headway on a couple other 2014 projects, as well.

It was also a successful week for Jon Huber, as well. I returned to my beautiful wife and a home filled with love. I came back with an even greater respect for the artistry of cigars, became a more educated–yet humble–cog in the wheel, and I received the gift of ‘perspective.‘ Never take anything for granted, my friends; kiss your wife, hug your children, and count your blessings. Each and every day is a gift–that’s why they call it ‘the present’–so LIVE IT and cherish it.

Jon Huber
Crowned Heads