A couple of people have said they were working on quitting smoking. Congratulations to them.
Everyone in my family of origin smoked. Everyone except me. Some have since quit, but at one time or another, all three of my siblings and both parents lived with this lung destroying addiction.
Both my parents and all the men my mother married drank to excess. She denies that she "drank that much." Compared to an ocean, a lake isn't that much. But it's still water.
So just after my parents divorced and my father had custody of me and my older sister, it wasn't uncommon for him to have cans of beer on the coffee table. He'd leave four or five just strewn there. Often he'd have a few sips left in one, forget he already had one and open another.
I can hear his throaty "yeuck yeuch" as he sat in his green shirt and boxers laughing at HeeHaw and sucking his teeth. A wisp of smoke trailed from his jutting cigarette as he curled his fingers to reach for the Coors can.
On more than one occasion I sipped a few dribbles myself. I was around five. Yeah, dad couldn't ever be called the most responsible parent. He was doing the best he could.
One day, I came by and started sipping the dregs of his cans.The tang of the amber liquid tickled my nose. I must have been exceptionally small or the table larger, as I remember bringing the cans to the edge, tipping and sipping. I grabbed one, raised it to my lips and poured stale beer and cigarette ashes down my throat
I've heard that kissing a smoker for a non smoker is like "licking an ashtray." I've kissed a smoker and I drank an ashtray. They're not the same.
I cannot get that experience out of my mind and whenever the thought of smoking or beer drinking comes up, I can't help but gag. Daddy had no notion of the valuable gift he gave me. He just liked his drinking and smoking ways.
I know addictions are rough things to get through. I hope those of you who are trying to change your lives have wonderful success.
Kind comments always welcome.
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