My dad smoked Winston’s for years; the ones in the red pack.
Although he was busy -- running the store six days a week and then coming home
to do outside chores or go off again to a meeting somewhere, he always took a
break every night after supper to enjoy a smoke or two with his coffee. One
year when Santa brought me a Ring Toss game, Dad and I got into the habit of
playing a few rounds while he smoked and listened to John Chancellor and the NBC Nightly
News that was on the TV in the other room.
Every night I would ask if he wanted to play and every night he would
say yes. It was just me and my dad, and I’m not going to lie; the smoke smelled
kind of good and having my Dad’s undivided attention was even better. We even
played on that day in January when Grandma Bandy died. I remember being anxious
about asking him that night; after all, there was Grandma, down the
street at the Hough Funeral Home and my aunt and uncle had travelled up from
Carbondale for the funeral and were staying with us. Aunt Pauline had teary eyes all through supper,
even when she tried to smile, and I wondered if it was proper to ask Dad to
play ring toss at a time like this. Finally, as the plates were cleared and Mom
brought coffee to the table, I worked up the courage to ask him and he still
said yes. He probably needed that smoke break more than ever on that particular day in his
life.
Having a father who smoked led to all kinds of possibilities when it came to gift giving for his birthday or Christmas or Father’s Day. Not sure what to buy? A new lighter and lighter fluid were always useful gifts, and he could always use another ashtray or a new shirt with a pocket for his smokes. Grandma Gamlin saved up the money she made selling her handmade kitchen aprons at the variety store and bought him a carton of Winston’s every year for Christmas. One year, we got him a wooden case for his desk that held 20 packs and neatly dispensed one pack at a time. It was my job to load them.
Dad traded vehicles at Bandy’s Chevrolet every four years,
and was very particular about the condition of the car. The same no-eating-or-drinking-not-even-water
rule that applied to the living room applied to the car. But smoking was
allowed. He never used the built-in ashtray or lighter, but instead kept a
small beanbag ashtray on the dash that he emptied after each trip. When I think
of the Sunday drives and short trips we took when I was a kid, I can still hear
the static on the AM radio along with the constant whistling noise coming from
the vent window that he cracked open when he smoked.
I eventually graduated from candy cigarettes to real ones, and smoked here and there in my teens
and early 20’s, before giving it up all together. Unlike dad, I was mainly a social smoker and while I enjoyed it, I was never really hooked on it. Nowadays, I mostly hate being around cigarette smoke, although occasionally,
I’ll catch a whiff of it and it will remind me of my dad and ring toss and supper back
home.
Wonderful throw-back Jan. Smoking was a widespread, normalized behavior. Seems crazy now knowing how deadly nicotine is.
ReplyDeleteDr. Telfer delivered my brother and me!
I have no idea why I was signed in as ponypower???
ReplyDeleteWonderful throw-back Jan. Smoking was a widespread, normalized behavior. Seems crazy now knowing how deadly nicotine is.
ReplyDeleteDr. Telfer delivered my brother and me!
I love everything about this post, including your friend here who is accidentally signed in as ponypower
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