Great read in The New Yorker
When I was in fourth grade, my class took a field trip to the American Tobacco plant in nearby Durham, North Carolina. There we witnessed the making of cigarettes and were given free packs to take home to our parents. I tell people this and they ask me how old I am, thinking, I guess, that I went to the worldâ€™s first elementary school, one where we wrote on cave walls and hunted our lunch with clubs.
When New York banned smoking in the workplace, I quit working. When it was banned in restaurants, I stopped eating out and when the price of cigarettes hit seven dollars a pack I gathered all my stuff together and went to France.
art cancer new yorker smoking
Just after my mom started chemotherapy, she sent me three cartons of Kool Milds. â€œThey were on sale,â€ she croaked. Dying or not, she should have known that I smoked full-strength Filter Kings, but then I looked at them and thought, Well, they are free. It took some getting used to, but by the time my mother was cremated Iâ€™d switched over.