On Smoking

They’d Walk a Mile For One

    Most of you probably know that it used to be the case that many people smoked - everywhere and all the time. Cigarettes were lit in libraries, and in movie theatres smoke curled around the light beams streaming from the projector. The command of permission heard in military settings - “The Smoking Lamp is Lit” - was not required by civilians who flicked their lighters immediately upon awakening and inhaled smoke along with their orange juice. I remember one friend who smoked through every meal. He would take puffs between bites and light a new cigarette from the one still burning. Bars were smokey, ash trays were full, stogies stunk and mostly we hardly noticed.

    Now it is the case that many people are intolerant of smoking and it is largely outlawed indoors. That is why we see groups of puffers huddled outside large buildings and even hospitals. Many are often ostracized from their own abodes and forced to sneak a few puffs on cold Canadian mornings outside on the porch. Why they continue to smoke, even in such unappealing conditions, is a question best answered in this description. It is of a man with bad lungs caused by too much time in a tannery and too much smoking.

    “He sat until he felt he had denied himself the final pleasure long enough. Then he took out the Camel, lit it and inhaled deeply. It seemed odd to Mather Grouse that nothing went all the way down any more except cigarette smoke, which somehow knifed through the phlegm and arrived at the very center of his body. At times he thought it would be the most exquisite pleasure in the world to smoke an entire pack of Camels, one right after the other, for it was only when he smoked that he had the sensation of truly breathing. Intellectually he knew it was a cruel deception - that each Camel reduced the number of breaths allotted to him - but there was no denying the experience. Even the pure oxygen he received at the hospital didn’t penetrate the way Camels did, and he often smiled at the notion that what he needed was not to be hooked up to an oxygen tank but to an endless Camel.”

    The wonderful writing above is by Richard Russo and it is found in the novel Mohawk, (Vintage Books), pp.76-77. If you enjoy good stories about the complicated simplicity of small town life be sure to read his books. He also authored a very funny book about life in an English department (Straight Man). And, if you think your mother is a burden, have a look at Elsewhere: A Memoir, which is largely about his.