Marlboro Memories...

OK, OK... I know it's been a really long time since I blogged... but I have been fighting the "nicotine demons".

Happy to say, I'm winning SO far... it's been 4 months now.

I had to sort of take a break from life for a little while to retrain myself how to live without cigarettes.

It truly is amazing how that habit infiltrated my entire life.

I remember the first cigarette I ever smoked... and while I KNOW that *I* am to blame for my own actions... I still like to throw a little guilt my sister's way. >;-)

See, many years ago, my dad had sent us down to the store to buy him a pack... at THAT time, they cost right at a dollar a pack. For some unknown reason my sister, who was 12 at the time, asked for 2 packs.

We walked back across the 5 lane highway to get back home... Gave dad HIS smokes and then hurriedly ran to the side of the house with OUR pack.

I guess Dad had to leave because for some reason, the only people home were my sister, me ... and unbeknownst to us... our older brother, Charles... or Chuck as we called him.

Once my sister (whose name I'm omitting to avoid lawsuits... although MOST of you who know ME know HER) was relatively certain that we were alone... she opened the pack, lit one and then gave one to me. I think she must have been thinking that by giving ME one she was making me just as guilty as her... so I wouldn't tell.

So there we stood, nestled behind the overgrown cedar tree... beside the wall of Virginia Creeper... She, with her "square pegs style cutoff overalls" and me, most likely wearing giranimals shorts and an underoos shirt.... both of us stood there puffing those horrible death sticks.

As my sister and I continued our secret beatnik party beside that house at 1104 C street... As we, the 12 and 6 year olds talked about our lives over a cigarette... our brother POPPED around the corner!

AHA!!!!!!! He said... My sister and I stood there, frozen in fear... finding only the will to throw down our cigarettes with such force that they bounced at our feet.

"I'M TELLING MOMMA!!!!"" Chuck said. My sister was quick to offer him a cigarette so as to lure him into our guilt spiral, from which NO "tattling" could escape!

It was no use! Chuck had just stumbled onto the juciest, most sordid piece of information that any of us in our young lives had EVER learned!

As Chuck walked back into the house... As my sister and I sent him off to a chorus of "I don't care... tell her! TELL HER MOMMA'S BOY!!!" Then, only then did my sister launch our one and only option!

"We'll just smoke them all... and bury the evidence somewhere CHUCK will NEVER FIND IT". It sounded so reasonable that it just HAD to work!

So there, in the hidden side yard between OUR house and "Claude and Loretta Rains" house... we, the preteen offenders began our daunting task.

I distinctly remember standing there with a cigarette in each hand, peeping around the corner watching for any hint of that 1977 Red Datsun Station Wagon that Mom drove with pride!

There, hiding in the shrub, we puffed like we were trying to siphon that last gallon of gas in all existence!

After the 5th or 6th cigarette... I began to feel a little "unwell".

As a 6 year old in a "paycheck to paycheck" family... I was actually used to running and playing outside since we didn't really have anything worth doing INSIDE...

Being that I was ALWAYS running.. I was actually in pretty good shape... I OFTEN ran long distances at high speeds without even breaking a sweat! Not even when I was running from a bee... or the devil! But there, in our tar stained hide out... I was feeling a bit clammy.

We finished the whole pack... and buried the evidence.

When Mom got home, Chuck waited about 10 minutes to watch us squirm... but he told her. We were CERTAIN that there would be NO WAY Mom could link us to such outrageous activities as "child smoking"... but... as it turns out... Nonsmoking mothers can usually pick up the scent of cigarettes on the breath of their 6 and 12 year olds!?!?!

My sister never smoked again after that! Unfortunately... I did.

You know, my childhood is FULL of these crazy little stories. At the time, I felt like I was losing out by not having the best toys or cable TV... but now I know *I* was the lucky one!

I still think about those days every time I drive by 1104 C street in Barling, Arkansas. One of these days I'm going to hop out and dig on the side of that house.. just to see if any of our "evidence" is still there! ;-)