Tomorrow, November 15, is important to me for two reasons. Reason one, it is my friend JoEllen's birthday. Happy birthday girlfriend! Reason two, it is the annual day that Americans are encouraged to quit smoking in the hope that one day clean will lead to a lifetime free of tar and nicotine. A long time ago, I suffered through many of those one day ciggie fasts.
I fondly remember the first time I smoked a cigarette. I was in sixth or seventh grade. George Fritz and I sat out back of Darby Township High School and smoked away. I used to steal them from my mom's pack, and we actually had a hiding place for them. Mom eventually caught me, our family moved to King of Prussia, and that was the end of my smoking habit and George Fritz (I hear he became a police officer).
I didn't start smoking again until I graduated from high school. I worked with teens and older people (in their twenties) and there were many nights after work spent gazing up at the stars, blowing smoke rings into the sultry night air, and discussing life as only teenagers on the verge of adulthood are able. Coincidentally, that was also the time I started underage drinking. I felt so cool and so grown up.
The world was different for smokers back then. We could smoke anywhere. I smoked in my dorm room. I smoked during college classes. I loved being able to light up a smoke during a particularly stressful exam. We could smoke in restaurants, in the middle of the meal if we so desired. There was even a smoking section on airplanes; but the reality was all of the plane was a smoking section as the blue air was constantly recycled. I remember faculty meetings when the librarian brought out the big ashtrays to put on the library tables for the smokers. The smokers gathered early at school and we had the best time telling jokes to start our days. We were an elite club of cool people! When smokers visited a non-smoker's house, an ashtray was politely provide by the host so the polluters could smoke comfortably in their home. Mr. Ward, a maintenance man from the Board of Education, would puff on his cigar as he worked in my room while I was teaching class. I loved that man. Sadly, he died young...cancer.
Eventually, the Surgeon General convinced me I needed to quit. I tried many, many times. One New Year's Eve in Glen Rock I had resolved to quit smoking then and there. The next day I drove desperately through the ghost town looking for an open gas station, a cigarette machine, and my fix. I couldn't do it; I just could not quit. When I worked as an underpaid teacher's aid in Glen Rock, my friends knew when I'd run out of money because I quit smoking. Ha! Next paycheck and my resolve was shattered. When I dated Gary, I quit smoking because he was a non-smoker. Is it any surprise we broke up a month later? I was a lunatic in withdrawal! I refrained from smoking for a few more months, but one Happy Hour in a bar when he was with his group of teachers and I was with mine, I thought maybe a cigarette would ease my broken heart. I was hooked again. I didn't think I'd ever be able to quit.
And then I met Phil the photographer during a family vacation in Ocean City. We met on the beach one morning when both of us were taking pictures of the sunrise. He asked if he could come get me that evening and we'd do something. Hey, the family was only planning on playing cards that night so I was game. We had the most romantic walk on the beach, the kind of walk people always imagine when they write personal ads. And yes, we were those gross people you see and tell to get a room. It was wonderful! He was dreamy! He was also a non-smoker, so once again I quit my nasty habit then and there. He said he'd call me once we both returned to our homes.
I got home and came down with a wicked case of bronchitis. The illness helped my resolve and as each day passed, I did not smoke. The days passed and passed and passed; it was six months before Phil called me. We went on a date, realized there was no chemistry, and said our fond farewells. I may not have found the man of my dreams, but I found something better. I found out that I could go six months and not smoke if I did it one day at a time and never touched another cigarette. The money I had budgeted for cartons of cigarettes was donated to Christian Children's Fund as I sponsored a child in Mexico. On my teacher's salary, it would have been a financial hardship to start up again. My parents figured if I could quit a two pack a day habit, they could too. And they did. My brother, Glenn, quit after a tax on smokes made him so furious with the damn government that he wasn't giving them another &%$#* penny by buying their overtaxed cigarettes. So there!
Thirty plus years later I am still smoke free.
I continue working on my sister; and I'm hopeful. I keep telling her she has to quit. She really doesn't want Glenn and me raising her kids. Really.
If you still smoke, take the challenge to go one day without cigarettes. It might lead to a healthier lifetime. And if nothing else, think of all the money you will save. Good luck!
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