Giving up smoking ain't easy

Today’s lesson is: How to

Stop Smoking and Go on

Living.

My wife, Marilyn, badgered

me for years to stop smoking.

She also said I should eat at

least five vegetables before the

sun sets each day. I wondered at

the time why she was so eager

to keep me alive. The answer:

Who would carry out the trash?

But I decided one day to

become a former smoker,

because it was easier than eating

five vegetables. Of course, I had

to eliminate a few activities that

triggered my tobacco cravings,

such as drinking coffee, driving,

fishing, taking naps, eating out,

going to cocktail parties, reading

the newspaper, sleeping,

walking and breathing.

It seemed so easy. Here’s

what happened:

I couldn’t sit at the table

drinking coffee anymore. My

wife and I had done that to

excess anyway. In fact, I’d

heard Marilyn tell folks our

marriage was just one long cup

of coffee. I missed the jitters.

I couldn’t drink anything

with alcohol in it. You see, alcohol

had a tendency to corrode

my brain. It made me think

whatever I was doing was just

about the snazziest trick in the

world, if not the universe. So

when I drank, I also smoked,

and I looked like Robert

Redford and smelled like chocolate.

I was awesome.

I couldn’t drive my car

anymore, because my ritual was

to adjust the steering wheel,

start the motor, fasten my seat

belt and light up. But I couldn’t

let Marilyn drive, because when

she did, I got the galloping

glerks. The upshot was, if I

couldn’t drive and Marilyn did,

I had to wear a blindfold. She

said it was embarrassing.

And I couldn’t go fishing

anymore. There’s nothing like

sitting on the bank of a small

lake, a big, black cigar clenched

in my teeth, my line in the

water. Often, when my line

twitched, I ignored it until my

cigar burned out.

When I was at work, I

couldn’t sit back and watch my

latest golden tome print out,

because I always reached for a

cigarette. Gone.

I couldn’t go to restaurants

anymore. One of my favorite

smoking moments was when

my order went to the kitchen.

I’d sit back and light up, sipping

casually on my martini.

Henceforth I had to call in my

order and make sure it was on

the table when I got there. I

couldn’t even have a drink (see

No. 2).

Naps were out, too. When I

woke up, the first thing I did

was reach for a smoke. I had a

like problem in the morning, but

I solved it by staying in bed

until noon.

And cocktail parties were

verboten. Even if I didn’t drink

(see No. 2), I craved cigarettes.

I think it had to do with hiding

behind something.

I would have to stand on

the patio to read the newspaper.

For years I spread the sheet on

the kitchen table, poured a cup

of coffee and lit up. A good

news day would take two cigarettes

and a second cup of coffee.

Reading outside, especially

in winter, got me interested in

speed reading.

I couldn‘t take walks without

smoking too, so I did away

with that nonsense. I got my

exercise by turning over more

often in bed and searching for

the remote.

Still, stopping smoking hasn’t

been all that hard. In fact, it’s

made my life much simpler.

I’m often seen these days

standing rigidly on my front

lawn, my eyes covered with a

blindfold, my lips moving

silently, my chest rising and

falling spasmodically. It’s the

only moment of the day I don’t

crave cigarettes.

Bob Huber is a retired journalist

living in Portales. Some

of his stories are mostly true.

He can be contacted at 356-

3674 or by e-mail:

[email protected]