Health warnings going up in smoke

Wednesday, January 28, 1998

Health warnings going up in smoke

SMOKING From ignorance to media influence, excuses for one more
cigarette never cease

By Catherine Bailard

"Are you smoking, Catie?"

"No, ma."

"Yes you are. I just heard you light a cigarette. Catie, I heard
you exhale. You’re outside right now; I can hear the cars."

"No, ma, it’s a nice day. I just feel like standing
outside."

"Really? Why are you exhaling so loudly?"

"I’m exercising, running up and down the stairs. Good for the
legs, right? Conserving time, you know; doing two things at once.
You always bug me about getting exercise …"

"I went to the city with your aunt the other day. We had to stop
every two blocks for her to catch her breath. She went for an
organized walk sponsored by her retirement community center the
other day. Fifty-five years old, and she couldn’t keep up with the
70- and 80-year-old people on that walk …"

Extinguishing my barely-smoked cigarette in the glossy black
ashtray which had just been bought by our neighbors and discreetly
placed on the ledge to lure our butts away from their flower pots,
I walked back into my kitchen. It was actually pretty brisk outside
anyhow.

As I put my chicken into the microwave, I thought about my aunt.
She had missed Christmas last year, a result of the fact that she
now requires hospitalization every time she catches a cold. Over 40
years of smoking has stripped at least 70 percent of her lung
capacity from her. Fifty-five years old.

I washed my hands which still smelled of smoke and began again
to ponder the question I have been flirting with for the past few
months: "Why does my generation continue to smoke despite
everything we now know about it?"

I am pretty sure both my grandfathers died from their nicotine
habits. One grandfather developed lung cancer, and the other died
from emphysema, I believe. At least they had the excuse that they
weren’t aware of the detrimental results of satiating an oral
fixation through this means until it was too late. Too late.
Addiction. My aunt still smokes.

Even she might be able to cling to this dwindling excuse if she
so chose, whereas I have no chance of writing my stupidity off in
the name of ignorance. So I must ask myself why I smoke, and why my
generation is increasingly picking up the habit in the face of the
American Lung Association’s overwhelming anti-smoking campaign,
which utilizes every scare tactic and guilt-inspiring device they
can come up with. Not to mention the recent work of the non-smoking
militia who have managed to work this state into a legislative
fervor, in the hopes of saving our generation from shackling
ourselves to the smoking section of Dante’s "Inferno." We’ll be
lucky if we can still smoke in our own cars in a few years.

The most poignant question is why kids such as myself, who have
personally borne witness to the undeniably deadly effects of
smoking, ever took up the habit in the first place.

Perhaps the cries of "Smoking Kills!" from our television sets
are being drowned out, or at least subdued by the other endless
warnings, health advisements and breaking discoveries which
un-invitingly and unceasingly flood our eyes and ears. "Nutrasweet
causes cancer! Cell phones cause tumors! This year we only had 52
hazardous air days, down from 58 last year! The latest on acid rain
next! Protect your skin from the sun’s deadly rays! El Nino Watch!
Tainted meat has been distributed into our country, beware! Use a
condom or die! New research shows the development of leukemia may
be connected to hair-dryer use! Hypodermic needles found on local
beaches! Sitting too close to your computer screen can bombard your
cells with radiation …"

Upon hearing the beeping, I entered back into my kitchen to
retrieve my chicken out of the microwave. I’ve heard that it’s
unhealthy to stand too close to the microwave when it’s on …

According to our hyper-vigilant media you can’t even walk
outside without being exposed to some sort of life-draining force,
and you are certainly not safe from these invisible aggressors in
your own home. This is not to speak of the not-so-invisible threats
to your life the news also insists on reminding you about
daily.

Today death and disease are not only inevitable, they have
become constant. We all die a little bit every day, and there is
nothing we can do about it. So maybe this is why so many in my
generation have decided to take up smoking – at least we can choose
to inhale the toxins which are most likely in the air we breathe
anyway.

Pollution is at an all-time high right now. Just check out one
of the Valley’s hazy sunsets. By smoking, I am no longer a passive
victim in a world intent on getting me one way or another. I am
taking a stand! I am going to take this whole depletion-of-health
business into my own hands. I’ll kill myself, thank you, unless a
stray bullet from a gang confrontation I happen to be driving by
gets me first.

All right, maybe I’m getting a little dramatic. I actually don’t
smoke that much anyway, one or two a day, and they’re lights. I’m
not addicted. I’ve heard that my grandfather smoked two packs a day
of unfiltered Camels. Now that’s a smoker.

Honestly, it would be ridiculous of me to assert that I am
actually aware of the negative effects on my health from smoking. I
am probably still suffering from that invincible youth syndrome
which I keep hearing about. I’m young still; I have plenty of time
to quit. In fact, I just quit for a month (not counting that night
I got into a fight with my brother).

I have often thought that it is more the act of smoking I enjoy
than smoking itself. I appreciate having an excuse to sit outside
and savor the starless night sky above me. And I still haven’t
discovered why every quasi-intellectual confabulation or
heart-wrenching outpouring over the latest tale of relationship woe
becomes that much more intense and enlightening when we have
cigarettes in our hands.

Perhaps again I can blame the media. I don’t think I need to
expand on how prevalent smoking is in our favorite television shows
and movies … "Would you mind rolling me one of those, Cowboy?"
For years now we have been bombarded by the flagrant hypocrisy of a
schizophrenic media, leaving behind a generation of chastised,
slightly guilt-ridden, slightly masochistic, but nonetheless
super-cool socially accepted deviants who throw caution to the wind
by choosing to become the not-so-ignorant suckers of the dark force
of the universe, also known as the tobacco industry.

I guess I have no real answers, only more self-absolving finger
pointing. The most elementary truth is that after a big meal, I
enjoy a cigarette. Something about destroying my lungs makes me
feel that much thinner. Of course, cigarettes are also a necessity
during finals study breaks. They’re the perfect accompaniment to
cavity-friendly coffee, overly sugared to make up for the milk we
ran out of three pots ago. Also, sometimes I like one in the
morning to reward myself for actually getting up to go to class.
And obviously, you can’t expect to go to a party without smoking a
couple of cigarettes.

But I am not addicted, and neither is my boyfriend; nor are my
roommates, nor any of my friends, and certainly neither is any
other smoker I have ever met. We’re all not addicted, and even
those who would admit to addiction still hesitate to identify
themselves as "real smokers." Nope, we can stop anytime we want. So
the question remains: Why don’t we want to stop? If a
tracheotomied, raspy-voiced woman on our televisions can’t stop us,
and being confined to claustrophobic aquariums in the airport won’t
deter us, and stringent regulations in our favorite hangouts only
serve to send us in mass migrations to huddle under an awning, what
will stop us? Actually I’ve decided I am going to quit right now.
Right after this last cigarette …