Dave is munching on baby carrots and trying to undo his association of smoking with his daily routine. Dave, welcome back and, having watched my mother die of lung cancer (my proposed tagline for the tobacco industry: “The Fun that Killed Your Mommy”), you’ve got all my best wishes for kicking the habit. But please expect it to take years and even decades.

In the early 70s, when I was a graduate student and dorky practices were considered acceptable, I smoked a pipe. I didn’t inhale. I stopped when our first daughter was born. Five years later, I still found myself reaching for the pipes I’d thrown out. My daughter is twenty now and, believe it or not, I still get the urge. Rarely, but it’s as if the smoke got woven into my DNA. I almost involuntarily inhale deeply when passing through someone else’s pipe smoke. (Mmmmm, Amphora!) I can’t imagine the difficulty of withdrawing if I’d been mainlining the stuff directly into my lungs.

So, please, Dave, be patient with yourself. We want you around for a long time.

Oh, and fuck the tobacco industry.

Categories: Uncategorized dw