I don't smoke. Not anymore. Nope. Gives the tummy a lurch. But, I'll always be fascinated by a box of foil-wrapped papery tobacco. It reminds me of being little, the blue haze always floating just over my little sister's head in the kitchen. Hugs from mom and dad and Aunt Sandy and Nana. Tom Robbins once hosted an entire novel inside a pack of Camels, the first cigarette I ever tried, in a little alley Milo swore was magical at a certain sideways-light time of the morning. (It was after school.) I could list past flames by names or just as readily their preferred cigarette brand.
Anyway, smoky bars are going cold turkey and the teeth of the American public just keep getting whiter. Cigarettes are a whisper away from being just another icon of the past, a quick authentic addition to a nostalgic Halloween costume, an ancient ritual for ol' times sake like drive ins: we will on some very special occasion present a pack at a serious party, explain its significance to the younger ones, and lean into twilight and porch railings, ashing like black-and-white grainy starlets onto the shadow of ourselves below.
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3 comments:
In our desire to be politically correct we've whitened our teeth to the point our words carry neutral meanings reflecting our aimless values. Thanks for pointing out the death of another cultural icon, further proof elvis has left the building while big brother was watching and laughing all the way to the bank.
i am overcome. i will promptly purchase a carton of camels and declare my unabashed love for all things tom robbins and culturally-iconographically dead. bless you.
I carried around a pack of American Spirits for a long time, even back when smoking wasn't as socially alienating. I never smoked, but they reminded me of someone who did. I guess those cigarettes were already kind of iconic for me back then. Though I'm not sure I ever viewed smoking as a culturally defining activity. Maybe I grew up in the wrong era.
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