Acorns in abundance -- a long cold snow-filled winter, they say. So commented Marash Girl on her morning walk with Marash Boy as they made their way through a plethora of acorns. But acorns for Marash boy meant late August in Wilbraham, the time he could make acorn pipes with his cousin (the late Dr. George Charkoudian). At times they would climb the 300 year old oak tree to get green acorns soft enough to pierce easily with a toothpick. Sometimes they would satisfy themselves with an already fallen acorn. But they would always puff their acorn pipes with joy, knowing if the pipe they puffed broke, they could always make another one. Perhaps next time they would make an acorn pipe with an acorn that still had its hat, so that the the tobacco could be seen on top with the smoke streaming up to the heavens.