Everybody Didn't Quit

We smoked a lot when we were kids. At first it was just stripped seeds from various tall grasses that we'd put together and roll and (try to) light, but it wasn't long before we graduated to actual cigarette butts.

Always being alert for a good find on the road (anything more than an inch left) wasn't enough to keep us in "weeds" so sometimes we'd conduct specific searches for that purpose. One of the best places was the bus stop in the Renton Highlands at what until recently was known as Harrington Square. We were there often in the summer because that's where the pick-up was for bean and berry pickers (that was us, trying to make "school clothes money"). Besides the heavy waiting traffic there, the conditioning of folks to flip their perhaps not quite finished butts before getting on the bus made this a productive area. An hour or so wandering around with our eyes on the ground would usually yield enough for two or three days of puffing away. Often we found almost whole offerings of our favorite brand.

I was usually a Camel guy because that was what my Dad smoked, but Lucky Strikes were ok, too (Aunt Jane). There was, of course, the usual secretiveness and parental warnings , if not good example, that usually centered on "stunt your growth". I'm not aware that this was ever effective with anyone I knew and all my brothers and lots of friends and acquaintances became lifelong "x no. of packs a day" people.

There came a point for me, though, where for whatever reason I just decided that looking for butts was stupid and I certainly didn't want to move up to shoplifting (gasp) whole packs like some of the "big kids" did. Besides, smoking didn't really give me a lift or any other benefit that I could tell. Over the many years since, whenever I've been asked in social situations, on applications, at doctor's offices or wherever, "do you smoke" my stock answer is "I used to, but I decided to quit when I was nine." My other vices are taking awhile longer.