Why you should quit smoking
I smell like piss. And I’d dearly like to tell you why. Thank goodness I’m born with a real good memory.
Me and my older brother Gary used to go into the woods with other kids — Steve, Ricky Barber, an odd guy named Dennis, who provided the goodies. We’d congregate at the “Mexican Border,” which I don’t know how it got named. And we’d light up.
Dennis was surely the ringleader of the outfit and he’d let us know how he got ’em. And didn’t we look cool, real cool. Holding in our smoke for the longest, having a good ol’ time. We were slick, alright. We’d stand in the breeze so any evidence would soon blow away. So’s our moms wouldn’t know, you see. Eventually Dennis moved away and there went the fun.
Then I moved to in-town Portland after a few years. Transferred to King Junior High and used to walk home almost every day with Jimmy Woods. He had permission! I sure didn’t. That was when Winston still had their heyday, ’fore Marlboros, but by the time we got out of junior high we’d be Marlboro Men. Or, when I wanted to look super-cool, it’d be Camel straights. Not Camel non-filters, but Camel straights. We hung around a lot at this Danforth St. Center and we always had enough smokes. It was like the West Side Story but no music. Sometimes we’d be low on money, we’d have a car wash for beer and smokes.
Then I got hangin’ around with David Heatley. His mother worked all day, so it was Vacationland for us. Every day I’d take my books over to Dave’s house and study how good it was to sit around and smoke all day. Dave got this job delivering candy and cigarettes. That’s how it was done in them days. We’d load up the van and travel ’bout the town and drop stuff off. We couldn’t steal the goods, of course, but let me put it like this: we were in our correct domain.
Last time I saw Dave he was still doin’ the same thing. We had a beer together. At least he was straight. I was already a crook when I seen him.
But not to worry — we’d get free tobacco whiles we’re in the slam. Jesus H, weren’t it the roughest ’backy I ever smoked. We got a pack once was full of spiders! A guard who knew was tellin’ us: tobacco bugs. You know bugs eatin’ poison?
Now that was county time. When I got up to Windham, that was state time. Now that was good. They’d still give you free ’bacca should you need it, but they had competition too, like pool tourneys, and you could win butts. Plus horseshoe, which I only got double, and spades tourney, at which I done quite well. And didn’t I look cool. Because you look awful cool in the slams smokin’ tailor-mades. ’Specially since I could make the greatest smoke rings. Paul Newman, stand back!
Talk about movie stars smokin’, what was that guy in 3000 Miles to Graceland? Not the guy that lived. I remember he was smokin’ a straight while receiving oral sex. Tell me that didn’t look cool. He was talkin’ to a biker, havin’ a ball. He’s a big movie star now, of course. I’m forgetting things now, senile. Not too bad, but a pain in the ass sometimes. Can’t blame that on smokin’, I don’t think, ’less’n they ain’t found it out yet.
Course, all this time I was a nonstop weed smoker, back to David Heatley’s. mother going to work days. I don’t know how much damage that done (or if any), but I think maybe some, ’cause I think maybe no smoke is good.
Now vaping — I had no idea that came around the time I was quitting. I did vape weed couple of times and I swear it helped me. Got me coughin’ that yuck out real good. I doubt a steady course of it can’t help. Plus, just a flick of a Bic could send you up talkin’ to the Tambourine Man.
I’m still doin’ what I call the Shakin’ Sammy. My friend Bill Popewell’s murderer got I think 40 years. Silly me, I quit smokin’ the day he got stuck. I started nicotine DT’s during his funeral we had down the Oaks. His brother never showed up. I guess people tend to say non-meaning stuff in times of stress.
I’ll never forget Bill. I got a plan. I’ve got his ashes for some reason. I guess no one else wanted them. Anyways, I’m gonna feed a tree his ashes and the one next to it mine. We’ll be together for eternity.
Now, for all you folks, quit. Right now. I had to be ambulanced and everything. Only once did I get treated correctly. Mercy Hospital gave me a dose of 5 milligrams of diazepam. They probably got other tranquilizers by now. But gosh, I don’t think you wish to lug a big ol’ oxygen tank the rest of your life.
I think a lot of people are now quitting. I hope. I know not many smoked as long as I did — 50 years. But I got COPD. I don’t remember what it stands for. I know this: my breathing is fucked. Next week I’m goin’ in for a cancer test of the lungs. I’m probably going to pass my test but I bet one of you guys flunk yours.
I’ll give you one hint. Any changes of taste all the sudden? Like all things don’t taste right? That’s a hint. Check it out immediately. Next, check your poop. Now they got a test from the doctor to check for colon cancer, but any type of cancer can go through poop.
I’m still gonna sweat waiting for test results. So will you. So it’s Simple Simon to quit and check yourself now.
•••
You know what else I wished to do while they were holding my best friend’s murderer in county jail? I figgered I could go get myself arrested and just fuck that guy up. Glad I didn’t try that one.
Well, I gotta go. If you do quit, good luck. After all, it took me two times to quit. First time, I woke up so bad off. I had stayed at my pal’s house, just in case that’d help, but I staggered down to the ashtray and had a butt-sweet relief. Still, I knew I could do it. I give myself 60 days. I also knew deep in my brain I done right. So 60 days later I did quit. For good this time.
So you remember this: once, twice, three times — whatever you need, as long as you do stop, it’s good. Oh, and one last thing. People always ask of me, knowing my past, which is hardest to quit? Nicotine tried to kill me. When you quit, you’ll see what I mean.
Why did I smell like piss? My landlord won’t let me open windows. In the bathroom, I didn’t wait as long as I should — it was so hard to breathe, I couldn’t take it. It’s almost impossible for a bath or shower. And they ask me: Why are you alive? One day at a time. One day at a time.
And you know, I’d like to add one last thing. When you quit, it’s real good to have a person to help out, even just to talk. I was real lucky. I knew a guy that was inspirational and my mentor sort of. I don’t believe I could’ve done it without Chet at Fresh Approach. I’ve known him since I was a young’un and poor fucker, he’s been worse off than me. I’ve always said if he can do it so can I.
I hope you can luck-out as I did. If you do, you’re halfway home already. If you go see Chet, tell him I sent you. And I don’t do this loosely. God love you. Best of luck.
