Suzy Says

Love/hate for Friday, February 21, 2003:
Smoking

~With apologies to Candi~

Although I deplore political correctness, I unfortunately find myself on Their side on the issue of smoking. I hate it, both the smoking and being on Their side. I don’t know which is worse, come to think of it.

I realize that sometimes, you just have to deal with it, preferably without complaining, difficult though that is. I accept that when a girl goes to France, it’s inevitable. If you can’t take the smoke, get out of the country. In fact, you are the unsocial freak in that scenario, not the smokers. Worse yet, you’re one of those insupportable American tourists who want everywhere to be like the good ol’ USA and eat at the Mickey D’s on the Champs Elys&eacutees. I accept that if you go to someone’s house and they smoke, you have to put up with it, because you are in their house. But if you’re at my house, you’re going outside with John to indulge your tobacco addiction, because it’s my house.

As is usual, John and I are the opposites in this case, or as it might be, the yin and yang. He smokes, I don’t. However, I hasten to add that he has never smoked around me and the cats, even when we lived in Canada where there is real weather and from time to time, the sort of day where the Fahrenheit and Celsius scales meet (a horrifying and now unimaginable -40&deg).

I am sure that John is quite well aware of the dangers to his health, but I never nag him about it. I even buy him the fatal cigarettes not infrequently, mostly because I have more time after work than he does and because I walk by the Cigarettes Cheaper store every day (though cheaper is all relative: $35 a carton). I figure he’ll quit if and when he’s ready, and in the meantime, he’s smoking away from me so he’s not taking me with him to his untimely death.

Having said that, if second-hand smoke really is the evil we are now led to believe, the damage may well be already done. My mother, back in the halcyon days of the 1960’s, cheerfully smoked and drank cocktails throughout her pregnancies. Nor did she see any reason to curb this behavior after we were born. We were all healthy babies and suffered no ill-effects as far as I know. Now she’d probably be charged with child endangerment, or at the very least, be subject to remarks from holier-than-thou strangers, as friends of mine have been when indulging in a glass of wine in restaurants while pregnant.

It bothered me when Mom smoked in the car, though, especially in the winter. We lived in Upstate New York, where there is lots of snow and it gets pretty cold, though not in Canada’s league, of course. So whenever we went anywhere in the winter, the car windows were closed and the car would rapidly fill with smoke. In retrospect, we must have smelled pretty gross by the time we were decanted at our destination, especially on our frequent visits to Mom’s parents, who lived a 2 hour drive away from us.

Mom’s father was a reformed smoker, which is the worst kind, just like converts to religion. They never hesitate to press their new-found enthusiasm on anyone they can get to listen to them, and he was always telling Mom to stop smoking. I seem to think – they died 25 years ago, so my memories are getting a little hazy, as if painted by Monet – that they made Mom smoke outside, even in the winter.

What my grandfather neglected to mention was the only reason he was able to quit smoking at all was that my grandmother told everyone in their small town that he was quitting and they couldn’t sell him cigarettes unless they were willing to face her wrath. Nana was small in stature, but with a steely will (she left home in the early 1900’s when her father refused to send her to high school, saying “It made as much sense as educating a female cat.” Why female cats are less worthy of higher education than males remains a mystery, but Nana eventually went to college and became a teacher). So with the help of his town, he quit. My mother also quit, probably 30 years ago now, though come to think of it, she’s not at all self-righteous about it like many reformed smokers. But she does say that if she had even one, she’d be right back on it. That’s some powerful shit. I’m lucky I’m only addicted to harmless things like jewelry.