Smoke from a Distant Fire
There’s a dark time that we don’t talk about. A time lost in the mists and clouds. A time we all inhaled deeply and ignored the real issues. A time when we did things we pray our kids never do.
There are phrases that were common to my youth that we don’t hear anymore. “Smoke’em if you’ve got’em!” “I’ll get to that after my cigarette break.” “Hey, man, Let me bum a smoke.” “Hurry up. Recess ends in five minutes and Mrs. Harkey’s class is a long way from the smoking area..”
I think my parent’s generation was the first to regularly smoke store-bought, pre-rolled cigarettes. At least that’s true in the South where economic recovery after the Great Depression meant that many folks rolled-their own cigarettes to save money.
By the 1940’s, when that Greatest Generation went to war, cigarettes went with them. Every C-Ration package opened by an American soldier had a pack of four cigarettes included. Pall Mall, Chesterfield, Old Gold, Camel and Lucky Strike all produced the mini-packs for the troops. Lucky Strike, whose brand logo was a circular red target, Changed the red target to olive drab and announced, “Lucky Strike green has gone to war!” In retrospect, the red target logo was probably bad mojo in a combat situation.
Despite growing health concerns, the military continued to issue cigarettes with military food rations until 1975. Every photo from World War II, Korea, and Viet Nam seems to show soldiers smoking cigarettes while doing everything from showering to shooting. When you think about it though, death by cigarette must have been near the bottom of a soldier’s list of concerns.
By the time our fighting men came back from Europe and the Pacific, the majority of Americans smoked and while it was generally accepted, women faced different standards. Even in the 1970’s, women at many colleges were only allowed to smoke in areas inaccessible to the general public. Winthrop students, all were female at the time, could only smoke on the back campus. As women gained an equal right to publicly endanger their lungs, the Phillip Morris Company gave them a boost with a slim, fashionable cigarette and the catchy jingle, “You’ve come a long way, Baby. To get where you’ve got to today. You’ve got your own cigarette now Baby. You’ve come a long, long way.” Sometimes I think that if something needs a catchy phrase, it’s probably not good for us.
I’m pretty sure some women took up smoking so they could stand kissing someone with tobacco breath. Nonetheless, they did take it up. My Dad smoked Winstons or Marlboros but Mom’s choice was hardcore. She smoked Kool, regular unfiltered. That is all the tar and all the nicotine plus a jarring shot of menthol. For those not of the cigarette generation, think of it as Red Bull plus Fireball. When I began to experiment with smoking, and it was a long experiment, I sneaked Mother’s Kools. That assault on my lungs should have slowed my progress but I’m no quitter.
By the time I entered high school, my best friends and I smoked everywhere it was allowed and it was allowed almost everywhere. We smoked in the school smoking area, in movie theaters, in stores, at dances, and even at the swimming pool. Imagine a time when every airline seat had an ashtray and stewardesses, now referred to s Flight Attendants, sold cigarettes from their rolling carts.
Along with my friends John and Chuck, I began with good old American brands like Marlboro and Winston…as real men, menthol was not for us. We envied the drugstore cowboy types who stood in front of the Rexawl Pool Room on the corner of Main Street with their black buckle boots and their cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of their white tee-shirts.
But we matured and grew sophisticated. No longer skinny kids, we were juniors in high school and cowboy brands were out.
James Bond was in, and we drove to the K-Mart on South Boulevard to find Benson Hedges in the very hip gold trimmed black box. Light one up, pretend to sip your martini, “shaken, not stirred” and say, “Bond, James Bond” in your best British accent. The girls all loved it…at least British and foreign girls. Unfortunately, we didn’t know any of those.
In my first year of college, I am ashamed to admit, there was a lonely time of sitting in smoky bars with an unfiltered Pall Mall in one hand, a Budweiser in the other and a Zippo leaking lighter fluid in my pocket. I have always mourned failure in the company of strangers. It was not a good look or a good era for me.
Later in life, smoking was just finding a way to get a hit of nicotine to calm down or pep up or cover up my social awkwardness. Cheryl, whose insight often guides me to understanding this world and myself, says I smoked to punctuate my life. I used cigarettes as an exclamation point to celebrate my victories or curse my defeats. I have never found anything since that truly fills that spot.
I think smoking was so popular because it harkened back to something primal and blood born. As humans we are lonely…more lonely than we ever admit. Even those of us who have close relations with friends and spouses spend time feeling alone, misunderstood, and out of place.
Humans are communal beings, and we cling to family groups and packs. These groups had their beginnings around fire. Whether a bonfire, a campfire or a backyard grill, humans love to gather around a fire and share stories of the comic, tragic, victorious and mundane events of our days. A group of folks standing around smoking almost always faced inward. In some subliminal way they were sharing the fire, finding common ground, relating to each other. It is an experience we seldom have in the technological era.
At any restaurant, look around. Even when seated at the same table, people are looking at social media instead of communicating with each other. Our electronic pocket pals provide us with gossip, news, entertainment, answers, conflict and consolation. We can type a few words and be applauded or jeered by dozens of faceless followers. We can soak our world-weary heads in the miseries of others or find an online guru to suggest cures for our own woes.
I don’t advocate bringing back smoking. The long-term effects are horrific and the immediate effect is unpleasant. I also don’t want to do away with all the snazzy technology that connects us to the world.
What I do want is to bring back standing around and talking together. I want to return to the time of meaningless banter and foolish interaction. I want us to laugh together and tell stories and remember times spent with unforgettable friends. I want to look friends and strangers in the face and see the humanity in their eyes. Only when we see our common dreams and needs can we dispel the hatred and anger that so contaminates our world. I just want us to like each other again.
That’s today’s sermon. Take it or leave it. I’m going to step outside . I’ve got a fifteen minute celery break coming.
