I smoked my first one at age 6. One of the other kids stole a pack from mommy's purse and five of us hiding in a shed lit up. The year was 1944. I'd sneak butts from their ashtrays, salvage the tobacco and smoke it in a home made pipe based on a drilled out 2x2 and a piece of brass pipe for the stem. By the time I was eleven I found a store that believed me when I said I was buying them for my mom. By 13 I actually had my parents permission to smoke. They felt I was gonna do it anyway and better not behind their back. At that time I was going to a Catholic school and one afternoon I was waiting for a streetcar with my two buds and we were all enjoying a smoke. Well, up comes sister to catch a street car to get to the convent. She asked if out parents knew we smoked and of course we all said yes. Come to think of it this was one a Friday as on Monday when class started sister addresses the class on how she ran int PB, RA, and JA smooooking with the "O" part long and drawn out. She then went on on how she asked us if out parents knew that we smoked. Her next words were, "Two of the gentlemen were lying. JA and RA go to the boys bathroom. Dunno what she did and they weren't talking but the howl coming from the boys can were just a bit chilling. I tried to quit a few times but it just didn't work. One day a group of Seventh Day Adventists came to town with a quit smoking class and my wife who hated the smell and the fact that I was coughing and hacking all the time got me to go. Consider this, I was averaging two to three packs a day, three or four pipe fulls and a cigar or two. That's every damn day. When that three day class was over, I hadn't smoked for three whole days and it was about three month later I bummed a smoke of a friend, took a drag, inhaled and threw it away. To me, that cigaret was making me slightly stoned. I have no other way to put it. So after 31 years of being a walking chimney I was smoke free. One of my hunting buddies back them was a strict mormon and had never smoked. I always had great difficult keeping up with him up in the hills. The hunting season back in 1975 surprised the hell out of him as he had trouble keeping up with me and his legs are a lot longer than mine.
If I'd only known back then what I know now, I promise you I'd have never taken that first drag.
Paul B.
