‘Smoking’

Some, they say, are born with a silver spoon in their mouth. I missed out on the spoon and instead, satisfied my oral fixation with a dangling cigarette.

For many years I nurtured, supported and staunchly defended my inalienable right to smoke.

Until last year I had absolutely no difficulty lighting up and puffing great billowing clouds of smoke anywhere, anytime and around anyone. But even the strong of will can start to buckle under pressure. Given enough insults.

I was quietly sitting in my doctor’s office while he reviewed my file.
“I see by your file,” he said solemnly, “that you smoke.” Only his eyes had lifted from the page. “Do you STILL do THAT?”

His eyebrows had worked their way into a question mark but his mouth twisted just enough to look as though he was preparing to spit.

Nervously, I confessed. It sounded as though I had committed some heinous act: Let the court be advised that the wretch before us did willfully, knowingly and without regret inhale tobacco smoke for a period of approximately 15 years.

You can always tell when you’ve encountered a non-smoker. There are two major brands. The first is the “never touched a cigarette in my life” species. They emphasize the word “touched” leaving the rest of us to wonder at the extent of their tactile repression. (What other things won’t you “touch”?) These are the people who don’t mind if you smoke because that just confirms what they already know – that they are better than you. These “never-touched…” people cannot even imagine smoking. If you tell them that you smoke, they will ask you why? That’s like asking why are you female (or male) as the case may be. An avid smoker does not remember when, how, or why. They simply refuse to see the existence of choice. A smoker’s natural developmental pattern begins with the bottle or breast, then pacifier, peanut butter and jelly sandwich followed by a cigarette.

The other type of non-smoker we all know as the reformed smoker. These are the people who used to smoke 2 or 3 packs a day. Day in … day out. No matter what the Surgeon General said. No matter what financial burdens befell them. They were a sorry lot. When it came to choosing between milk for the kiddies or a new pack of butts, they knew where their money was going – on the butts. The humanitarian ones might scrape up enough extra cash of a box of powdered 2%.

Then suddenly a vision appeared. It must have been a vision of mystical persuasion since that’s the only route left after defying the Surgeon General. Presto… change-o! Quick as Bob’s your Uncle – a crusader was born. A new member of the Moral Majority. An EX-smoker. Nothing deters them from their mission: To rid the world of that “filthy habit”. Even the behaviour is now unutterable. When we hear those two words, “filthy habit”, it can only mean one thing: smoking. Forget about Libya. Don’t worry about Reagan or Ghadafy unless of course, they smoke.

These totalitarian purists will pounce on you at parties and endlessly extol the benefits of non-smoking. Worse than that – they’ll fill your ashtrays with gum wrappers.

Only their eyes light up as they reel off the joys of unscented clothing, car windows without that tell-tale yellow glaze and the worst of them will brazenly parade their new appreciation of gourmet cooking and aerobics classes. According to them, it’s necessary to “plan ahead”. Make arrangements for a more varied social life and join an exercise class to keep the tummy trim. Enjoy life – they gush.

The most remarkable thing about these reformed smokers is their total recall of every minute detail surrounding their decision to quit. Apparently, their ecstasy can only be surpassed by Maters and Johnson.

Well, smokers of York Region, I have given you fair warning. A recent survey among employees of York Region and the York Region police department has confirmed your worst fears. Most respondents voted in favour of a smoking ban in the workplace.

The anti-smoking lobby has struck once again. They felled the city of North York two years ago. East York is history. Etobicoke ditto. Until now, York Region has been a smoker’s sanctuary. Butt no more… (cough). I must confess that I anticipated this impending nightmare: the relentless call of freedom from nicotine, the seductive allure of fresh air. I too, am a Born Again Breather. On June 1st, 1986 I will celebrate my first anniversary as a non-smoker. Take that Ghadaffy!