Saturday, November 11, 2006
#6 My Vices, part one
I have had two major vices in my life. Both began at the tender age of 10. One habit has lasted many years longer than the other. One habit is much "cleaner" than the other.
I was a smoker. Oh yes, it's true. After all, that was part of the sex appeal in the movies, and with wanting to be a movie star it made sense. But they used long slender plastic holders with filters.
In grade 4, with my sister in grade 7, we together went into the woods by my house on the weekends. This is the same woods in which she chased boys and pinned them down...well, you know the story. Man, she and her kids better not be reading this. You see, very rarely can a family gathering occur without these stories being told and "argued" about. More like teasing really.
So, on Saturdays my sister, who was already a smoker, would go into the woods with me and we would light up. I tried smoke rings, and thought on occasion I had attained them. I think it was probably the wind blowing through them rather than any expertise. What would a child know about smoke rings? After a few weekends of this habit, I caved. I didn't like it much any more and wanted out. But it wasn't that easy. Other people were involved, and knowing that I was a youngest child (insert "squealer" there), blackmail quickly became involved. I had to continue smoking or I would be ratted out for my involvement. Argh. There was a sneaky remedy to that. A pack of matches left in my coat pocket tipped off a curious mother, and "youngest child" spilled the beans.
As an object lesson, my mother rolled some cigarettes from my dad's stash. Gross. The tobacco was hanging out both ends, and they were the flat papers that had to be licked to close. Double gross. I couldn't do it. My sister of course, being the tough one, did. My brother hung out in the doorway, making faces at us so we laughed and got in trouble. There was a poster family moment.
I never smoked again. Oh sure, I was tempted. When my grandma came to visit and rolled her cigarettes I liked to help her. I wanted to hold the cigarette. Not smoke it. Just pose. I resisted the temptation over and over. Maybe the image of her coughing relentlessly from her emphysema helped me avoid using the things. Or watching grandpa die of lung cancer, coughing up black stuff. His was probably from smoking and his job at Cominco. But this isn't really about the dangers of smoking, just the story.
I was a smoker. Oh yes, it's true. After all, that was part of the sex appeal in the movies, and with wanting to be a movie star it made sense. But they used long slender plastic holders with filters.
In grade 4, with my sister in grade 7, we together went into the woods by my house on the weekends. This is the same woods in which she chased boys and pinned them down...well, you know the story. Man, she and her kids better not be reading this. You see, very rarely can a family gathering occur without these stories being told and "argued" about. More like teasing really.
So, on Saturdays my sister, who was already a smoker, would go into the woods with me and we would light up. I tried smoke rings, and thought on occasion I had attained them. I think it was probably the wind blowing through them rather than any expertise. What would a child know about smoke rings? After a few weekends of this habit, I caved. I didn't like it much any more and wanted out. But it wasn't that easy. Other people were involved, and knowing that I was a youngest child (insert "squealer" there), blackmail quickly became involved. I had to continue smoking or I would be ratted out for my involvement. Argh. There was a sneaky remedy to that. A pack of matches left in my coat pocket tipped off a curious mother, and "youngest child" spilled the beans.
As an object lesson, my mother rolled some cigarettes from my dad's stash. Gross. The tobacco was hanging out both ends, and they were the flat papers that had to be licked to close. Double gross. I couldn't do it. My sister of course, being the tough one, did. My brother hung out in the doorway, making faces at us so we laughed and got in trouble. There was a poster family moment.
I never smoked again. Oh sure, I was tempted. When my grandma came to visit and rolled her cigarettes I liked to help her. I wanted to hold the cigarette. Not smoke it. Just pose. I resisted the temptation over and over. Maybe the image of her coughing relentlessly from her emphysema helped me avoid using the things. Or watching grandpa die of lung cancer, coughing up black stuff. His was probably from smoking and his job at Cominco. But this isn't really about the dangers of smoking, just the story.
// posted by Annette @ 11:44 a.m. 
