ash well.

Ladies and gentlemen, let us consider the ashtray.

A rarely recognized reminder, the ashtray serves as a symbol of an era when people were encouraged to enjoy their personal freedoms, to immerse themselves in indulgence, to osculate the very metaphor of life itself: that each of us might savor the time we are given, brief though it may be. Contrary to popular opinion, there is wisdom inherent in smoke. “To remain on earth is beastly,” it whispers to us. “To linger in mid-air, divine.”

But through this haze of enlightenment, remember: it is the humble ashtray that has always been faithful to the cause. To attempt to ground that which ultimately cannot be contained is no small ambition, yet no one speaks of ashtrays in hushed tones of solemn reverence. No one sings their praises. Who catches the ashtray when it slips, as the ashtray catches the ash? Who cries for the fallen, shattered into so many shards on the floor like pieces of a broken heart?

My friends, I can stand it no longer. Sit with me as we discuss how the ashtray deserves better, and how we deserve a better ashtray.

This is the table at which we will sit.

Centered in the middle is our ashtray, yet it is no ordinary such receptacle. Note that as a piece it is integrated within the whole so that it may not be moved nor removed: no more ashtrays taken from us in order to be emptied only to end up broken or stolen.

Observe that the bottom of the tray is hinged so that it can be opened, and the ash being held by it is then free to fall away into a larger vessel hidden below the table: no more overflowing containers crying for attention, or otherwise exquisite pieces of porcelain that hold but a single cigarette butt and are embarrassingly blemished by it.

Discern the size of the removable repository: half the ash in hell could be kept confidential in such cavernous confines.

Realize that the table can operate either independently, in which up to four individuals can sit around it, or that several such tables could be placed together to accommodate larger groups. Party of twelve? Imagine a row of five such tables, and envision a dozen people gathered around them all having immediate access to an ashtray. Or two. Or three.

But here we must stop and verify how very far afield we have traveled in terms of our terminology. The word “ashtray” suggests something shallow and fragile; it is too distinctly discrete a descriptor for our discussion and must as a result be respectfully retired. Understand that we are no longer speaking about a simple ashtray so much as investigating the intricacies of an item that is itself fundamentally deeper and far more substantial: an ash well, if you will.

Perceive the time, the effort, the care that went into the design and construction of this well; marvel at the quality of experience that may be afforded to those seated at it as a result.

Ladies and gentlemen, let us raise our glasses with the smoke climbing from our cigars and give a proper toast. To the ashtray phoenix, rising from the ash! To long days and longer nights spent smoldering, nonstop, forever; to the well which will always welcome them. May we all someday smoke and drink deeply at it.

Until then, my friends, ash well.