Here is a paragraph from a best selling novel of 1922.
“Would the gentleman wish his breakfast served in the parlor or—No the gentleman would have it right in his bedroom; but first, where were his cigarettes? He hoped above all things that the waiter had not forgotten his cigarettes. Some people began their days with cold showers—nothing less than a cruel shock to a languid nervous system. An atrocious practice, the speaker called it—a relic of barbarism—a fetish of ignorance. Much preferable was a hygienic, stimulating cigarette which served the same purpose and left no deleterious after effects.”
In 1943 I was with my father when he had a massive heart attack. Shortly afterward the doctor told him, “You just smoked your last cigarette.” He had rolled his own.
In 1950 during my senior year at the Naval Academy a sample package of cigarettes was at the place setting of each of the 2600 midshipmen for the evening meal. Since I did not smoke I gave my package to a classmate seated at my right. Instead of thanking me he said, “What’s wrong with smoking?” He said it in an accusatory tone. I responded that I was not willing to be a slave to something 2 ¾ inches long and inanimate.
In 1971 our two car garage was a hangout for 80 different high school kids every day. The garage could hold about thirty kids at a time, all smoking. We kept it open for eight months. If I ever die of lung cancer or emphysema it will be because of those eight months. It was called “God’s Garage.”
“Would the gentleman wish his breakfast served in the parlor or—No the gentleman would have it right in his bedroom; but first, where were his cigarettes? He hoped above all things that the waiter had not forgotten his cigarettes. Some people began their days with cold showers—nothing less than a cruel shock to a languid nervous system. An atrocious practice, the speaker called it—a relic of barbarism—a fetish of ignorance. Much preferable was a hygienic, stimulating cigarette which served the same purpose and left no deleterious after effects.”
In 1943 I was with my father when he had a massive heart attack. Shortly afterward the doctor told him, “You just smoked your last cigarette.” He had rolled his own.
In 1950 during my senior year at the Naval Academy a sample package of cigarettes was at the place setting of each of the 2600 midshipmen for the evening meal. Since I did not smoke I gave my package to a classmate seated at my right. Instead of thanking me he said, “What’s wrong with smoking?” He said it in an accusatory tone. I responded that I was not willing to be a slave to something 2 ¾ inches long and inanimate.
In 1971 our two car garage was a hangout for 80 different high school kids every day. The garage could hold about thirty kids at a time, all smoking. We kept it open for eight months. If I ever die of lung cancer or emphysema it will be because of those eight months. It was called “God’s Garage.”
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