the cigarette story
This is the cigarette story. This story is about sisters. Fourteen months apart sisters. Peggie and Sherry. Together constantly sisters. We had the run of a three block radius when our family lived on Euclid. We later moved to Prospect Avenue and Central Avenue was in between there at some point. I’m not swear-on-my-life sure, but I think this story takes place at the Prospect house, which adds a few blocks to the radius.
We still went to a babysitter, obviously because we could not be trusted left alone. I’m not sure exactly how old we were, but it was 14 months apart. Funny, I know.
Our babysitter’s name was Marge. I wonder where she is now. The house was really tiny. It’s still there. It’s on First Street, by the Cowboy Country Store. Marge was a really nice babysitter. We had some not so nice ones. We were rambunctious kids and I can’t imagine being the responsible party for us. We were busy and mischievous. Marge was an excellent cook! Two things I remember her making were cookie sheet pizza and some kind of sandwich that had tuna and cheese and then it was wrapped in wax paper and warmed up. Deliciousness. I can still picture those. But cookie sheet pizza, seriously, so good!! It was an amazing 9×13 pan of yummy crust, pepperoni, herbs and parmesan cheese. Now that I think about it, it may have been the Chef Boyardee pizza kit. It seemed homemade…
One day while at Marge’s, Sherry and I decided we needed to go to our house and get some games to bring back and play. That wasn’t true though. Marge believed us. We were liars. Our grand plan was cigarettes. Dad smoked Pall Mall reds, no filter. Mom smoked Benson & Hedges menthol 100s. The 100 meant that you got more cigarette for the price. More bang for your buck. More chance for cancer in your lungs. The non-filter ones may have been worse. When it comes to cigarettes is there a worse? I doubt it.
We begged Marge to let us go get games. As any good babysitter would do, she said no, but then she reluctantly agreed. Since I was the older, bossier sister, I got to choose which cigs I was going to smoke. I wonder why we thought we needed both kinds. Me, being the bossy sister, more than likely wanted Sherry to suffer with the Pall Mall filterless cigs. Stupid criminals. So, I made Sherry get the Pall Malls. The kind when you light it up you get pieces of tobacco all over your tongue and lips. I think there must be an art to smoking non-filtered cigarettes. We never achieved it.
We stole our cigarettes, got the games and headed back to Marge’s. I’m sure we were a sight. Two kids, probably 9 and 10, walking up Euclid, carrying games and smoking cigarettes. The picture in my mind makes me laugh out loud. I do remember being crouched down by the State Motel trying to light those babies. It must have been a little windy because the matches kept going out, which was kind of odd, because we were expert match lighters. We started our bed on fire. That’s another story for another time.
I keep thinking and wondering what made us want to smoke in the first place. Our parents? For sure. They both smoked. I also think the influence of movies and television in young brains is a real thing, along with the influence of parents. I remember thinking it was cool. We were cool. These weren’t candy cigarettes. These were the real deal, the real McCoy. We were 9 and 10, maybe, but for sure 14 months apart. We may have thought we were cool, but we were far from cool.
Later on when I got into sports and working out, I figured out that smoking was not cool. I absolutely despised it and was loud and proud about it.
It snuck back into my life in my early 20s. It was an addiction for me no doubt. I kicked that can down the street when I was about 35. For good. I have absolutely no desire to ever relive that part of my life.
Smoking contributed to the death of my dad. Quadruple bypass at the age of 48 and death at the age of 60.
When I think back about our childhood, I have to wonder how we survived. For sure, we were meant to gather some life lessons. We were meant to learn the value of being a kid. We were meant to be shackleless, free roaming kids. We were meant to exist and live life. We were and still are on the path of life. Every experience shaped us and we definitely experienced a lot of life.