A Smoker Reminisces, Part Two

Smoking didn't become a habit(read: addiction) for me until summer camp, age 16. It was one of those progressive arts camps for teenagers, where they make a point of treating you like a college student; plenty of freedom and free time. The counselors themselves were all college kids who seemed reluctant to rain on our pheromone parade -- they allowed us to enjoy our summer nights and loves unimpeded. This hands-off approach extended to tobacco use; groups of us would walk to the "wall" multiple times a day to smoke. We would talk about the Beats and listen to Dylan and Lou Reed. Cigarettes became romantic, became a part of the artistic and literary mythology we were sucking down. Non-smokers just didn't get Ginsberg and Kerouac the way we did. Those kids weren't part of the lifestyle.

That idea -- that smoking was a test of character, a litmus test -- was brought back from camp and integrated into my high school life. Just as there were cliques for theater kids and nerds and jocks, there was the smoking clique.

Like any clique we became a tight-knit group, providing support and friendship for our members. The social bonds formed by our shared habit created a community in which we felt comfortable. Finally, us cynics and loners weren't so alone -- and maybe not as cynical.

I guess what I'm getting at is that cigarettes, at more than one stage in my life, gave me a home.