1938? My First Cigarette
(Written on 11-25-2000)
It was on McFerrin Street in the late 1930′s. I must have been about three or four years old. Dad was a smoker. One cold, rainy winter day I asked him if I could have a puff of his cigarette. He said that cigarettes shouldn’t be shared, but that I could have one of my own. I thought that was really nice of him. So, he rolled me a cigarette and when I put it to my mouth he struck a match and sucked in, lighting it. A couple of puffs later I had coughed a bit and the smoke burned my lungs. I had had all that I wanted. I told Dad that I was through. But Dad, in his wisdom, told me that cigarettes shouldn’t be wasted and that I had asked for one, and that I should smoke the whole thing. So, I agreed to do it. It didn’t take long for me to get pretty sick. When the cigarette got too short for me to hold it, to prevent waste, Dad got a toothpick and stuck it through the cigarette near my mouth, and had me smoke it as short as possible. Then he asked if I was through, and I nodded. Then he let me go about my business, which was to go out the back door into the rain and throw up until I was empty all the way down to my toes. I didn’t bother to ever ask my Dad for another smoke.