Confessions of an ex-smoker

One man’s meat is another man’s poison. Author unknown.


Who would have ever thought that a group of young people, collectively known as the Pike County Youth Leadership Council (PCYLC), could have started the many firestorms they have by merely insisting on the right of the approximately seventy percent of us who do not smoke to be able to breathe freely while dining out? Yes, that number of non-smokers in Kentucky is right around seventy percent of the population, and even though, in our quest to be number one in something, anything, we have among the highest number of smokers in the nation, the smokers are still a distinct minority. But, like the minority white population from South Africa that, for a singularly long time, held sway over the majority native population there through the repressive doctrine known as Apartheid, so the minority smoking population has, for as long a time, held sway over the majority non-smokers, and have inflicted their addiction on anybody who has had the misfortune to sit near them in any restaurant in the area. But like the native population in South Africa that persisted until they wore down their oppressors, and who wrought a non-violent end to Apartheid, so too, are the majority here finally seeing an end to the days when they had no choice but to indulge in a habit that they found abhorrent, and, as was said in Isaiah 11:6, “…a little child shall lead them.”

Well, to be fair to those smokers, you have to know something of the addictive nature of their drug of choice, nicotine. I am a satisfied ex-smoker, yet I remember the hold that ter-baccy can have over a fellow. Fortunately for me, my addiction did not start until the approximate age of 18. Until that time, as I recall it, I would, on occasion, buy a pack of smokes, and having lit one, I would blow the smoke out of my mouth without inhaling any of it. It was this practice that kept me free from nicotine’s addiction until a “friend”, observing me with a butt one day, showed me the correct way to smoke, and from that day forward, I was hooked. And, as one fellow once said, if I had liked my smokes any more than I did, I would have put them on light bread, and eaten them.

And I know that, once addicted, the one prospect that held more terror for me than anything else, was the idea that I would find myself without them. Cigarettes became like a best friend for me. I had to have them, and a way to light them, at all times. They were the first thing I turned to in the morning, and the last thing I saw before bedtime. So now, when I see the writhings, er, writings, of the confused smokers who see themselves as a put upon people when smoking bans are proposed, I know where they are coming from. Like many smokers, I never saw my addiction as a source of trouble for anyone but myself, even in, say, public conveyances, such as buses or airliners, which had their non-smoking and smoking sections, much like the area’s restaurants. Here I happily seated myself, and pushed my poison forward into the ineffectively screened non-smoking sections, and, no doubt, ruined many a poor non-smoker’s day. Because I was so heavily involved in feeding my addiction, I did not see the sense in the observation that “You cannot keep pee in one end of the pool.”

Yes, while a smoker, it was shown to me many times the consequences of a lifetime spent smoking, as I saw family members and friends succumb to the diseases that smoking induces. But I was under the delusion that I could quit before cigarettes had time to do enough damage to my lungs to do me in. But like my fellow smokers, I did not see how easily days become weeks, weeks become months, months years, and years then add up, until I woke up one day, and discovered that I had been under their spell for a least twelve years. Dang! Well, I conjured up a bunch of cliches, such as, putting your best foot forward, etc., and by perseverance, I was able to kick my addiction, even though I regressed at least once, and had it to do over, I finally was able to stay away from them. But like a drunk (doesn’t go to meetings) who has become an alcoholic (goes to meetings, pays dues, and does not drink), I know that I am a non-smoker only so long as I stay away from cigarettes. So addictive is nicotine that two cigarettes are enough to get me back into its grip.

And, aside from its potential deadly consequences, being a nicotine addict can also lead a smoker into making a “straw man argument”. For instance, one line repeated over and over again by nonplussed smokers is that the PCYLC needs to leave the poor, law-abiding smoker alone, and go after the illegal drug users in the county. This argument conveniently overlooks a couple of things: One, the position that the PCYLC takes is against smoking, but only in a public place, not against smoking, per se, where second-hand smoke is not a problem. The illegal drug problem is the “straw man”, which is built up, and them demolished as a substitute for the real central issue, smoking in public. And, two, that nicotine itself is a drug, even if, because of the effective interference of Members of Congress from tobacco-producing states, the FDA cannot regulate it. More importantly, however, is the fact that nicotine is a “gateway” drug that introduces most illegal drug users to their more deadly habits. Once that first addiction is in place, the secondary use of illegal drugs becomes an easier decision for most young people.

Again, I had a similar viewpoint as the area’s smokers at one time in my life. And though I did not think it at the time, I found out that I could live, and quite nicely, without tobacco. But no one is asking the smokers to do without their smokes, just to take their butts to a locale where it does not endanger the health of those who do not know its terrible addictive quality. And, if the smokers are to show that they are the good neighbors they claim themselves to be, and if this is all that is asked of them, they will comply, and so, leave more of us to mourn for them when their addiction finally does them in.