users in general.”
My students begin to glance at one another. Now what’s he babbling about?
Well, for one, smokers are doing something everyone knows is dangerous—real dangerous. Yet they don’t stop. It’s like handling a deadly cobra every day. You may have a license from the state to own an exotic serpent, but you run the risk of the damn thing biting you. And when you do get bit, you’re most likely done. Just look at Peter Jennings, former ABC News anchor. Dead four months after telling the world of his affliction. If you smoke, you’ll face one, perhaps even two cancers. First, you’ll have to deal with justifications. Finally, you may ultimately grapple with lung cancer. But never forget which cancer started the whole ordeal.
The High Cost of Smoking
Cigarette smokers, especially those in the lower socio-economic groups, are draining their bank accounts (as drug users will do) at alarming rates. This brings up the issue of cost. One of our teachers just informed me that he pays over $6 for a pack of cigarettes—including all the new federal excise taxes— but a pack would probably run him a cool $12 in New York City. Smokers pay more for insurance. Their cars and homes tend to lose money on resale. They pay more at the dentist. More and more employers are refusing to hire smokers; some require prospective employees to sign non-smoking affidavits. It’s funny and poignant how frequently smokers leave their work areas to get a quick fix of their drug. Whether in small groups or alone, these smokers slouch, stand or pace in alleyways, behind dumpsters, on the front steps of buildings, under trees, on sidewalks, all the while blowing their smoke and flicking their ashes into the breeze. Just calculate the loss in man-hours, the loss in production. Imagine demanding a ten-minute break to guzzle some whisky or shoot up a little heroin. Imagine the following request: Hey boss, I must leave my desk on occasion, for ten minutes, to stand outside and stare at the clouds. Then I’ll return to my work. However, I’ll start to get fidgety after an hour and I’ll need to run outside again. This will happen each and every day I ever work for you. I just wanted you to know that upfront. I know my smoking friends won’t find that amusing, but my students sure do. I continue. I see smokers dangling cigarettes out their car windows, carefully blowing their smoke into the clean air. One of my former students, I tell them, came by to see me recently. I asked her if she still lit up. She nodded her head. “But we have an agreement in our apartment. We can only smoke outside on the porch. None of us wants the smoke getting into the carpet or the drapes.” Great, I say. Save the carpet and drapes, but go ahead and pollute your lungs. “Oh, stop it,” she said, nudging me.
Many smokers, especially the hardcore addicts, walk around like tightly wound toy robots. I have two explanations for this, I tell my students. First of all, these addicts are experiencing the typical highs and lows of drug addiction. (I now notice that some of my students seem to be uncomfortable with the drug addict reference. Why? Nicotine is a highly addictive drug, I remind them. If you’re addicted to it, you’re a drug addict.) Smokers get their fix and get up on that high. Then they start to come down, forcing them to seek an additional high. Up. Down. Up. Down. Stress. Relief. Stress. Relief. And there’s no stop to it—like one of those little animals we’ve all seen on the nature channel—constantly foraging for food all day long, non-stop. There’s no break. No holiday. It’s the same cycle Sunday through Saturday. Secondly, Cognitive Dissonance has to be a constant reality to a smoker. You just knew I was going to get back to Leon Festinger’s brainchild, didn’t you? I don’t want to insult your intelligence, but here we go again: Thought #1: I smoke cigarettes. Thought #2: I know smoking is dangerous.
To eliminate Cognitive Dissonance, the smoker would have to change one of the two cognitions. Imagine a goof that would have the nerve to eliminate #2 and replace it with something like, The dangers of smoking are largely a myth. You can’t believe everything they say. Of course, changing #1 makes more sense. Still, many smokers refuse to quit, which begs one, important question: What on earth keeps them going? My parents were a prime example of a couple who lived, for years, under the cloud of Cognitive Dissonance. Mom and Dad watched Granddaddy Bird waste away to nothing, and yet they continued to smoke until 1990, finally quitting fifteen years after that awful day in 1975. My father had crippling lung disease and was on oxygen twenty-four hours a day. What took them so long to quit? Mom says the two of them finally got the will power to walk away from nicotine, but why didn’t this happen earlier? You know the answer. Justifications—that pernicious cancer that sneaks upon us.
· Today’s not a good day to quit, but I’ll quit one day.
· I’m addicted and it’s not easy to quit.
· At least I’m not an alcoholic.
· At least I’m not doing hard drugs like cocaine.
· Everyone has a vice. Smoking is mine.
· Smoking evens me out.
· Smoking helps keep the pounds off.
· Smoking helps relieve stress.
· Smoking energizes me.
· Lots of people smoke.
· Lots of good and successful people smoke.
· I’m a good person.
My favorite comes from a friend of mine, an intense guy, who was forced to quit a few years back because of artery blockage— “I ENJOYED SMOKING. DO YOU HEAR ME, TOM? I REALLY, REALLY LIKED IT.”
I often wonder which justifications my grandfather used all of those years. Granted, when he started smoking, there was no CDC, no Surgeon General, and no American Cancer Society. All the silver screen actors huffed and puffed: Gable, Bogart, and Hayworth. But that all changed significantly before his cancer diagnosis. So, why didn’t he quit? What was he waiting for? For that matter, what is anybody waiting for? Are they waiting for the chest x-ray that will reveal a spot on the lung? How about shortness of breath or coughing up blood? It is here that many throw away the cigarettes and stare into the abyss, hoping to strike a deal Kubler-Ross so eloquently describes in her writings. The cigarettes are gone and I won’t smoke again. I swear. Now, can you just go away and leave me alone?
Unfortunately, in many cases, cancer stares straight back from that abyss and answers, No deal.
A Wish
Vista Memorial Gardens is a small cemetery that lies just west of the Opalocka Airport in Miami. Granddaddy Bird has been there in repose since 1975. I’m ashamed to say this, but I don’t think any of us have been to the cemetery in years. Mom lives three hours away; I live an hour north of there. Aunt Bee relocated to Central Florida in the mid-80s and passed away just a few years ago. South of Vista Memorial, there’s a small house nestled in an old Miami neighborhood. It’s the house in which my mother grew up. And in that house, in that small living room, there is a conversation that I desperately wish had taken place in 1945—years prior to Granddaddy Bird’s lung cancer diagnosis.
“Hey, Dad. I want you to quit smoking, do you hear? I’m not kidding. Throw away the cigarettes.”
“Sure thing. After the holidays, honey.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
4. The Cheech and Chong Effect: Justifying Marijuana Use… With a Shrug and a Smile
It was the summer between my freshman and sophomore years in college. Dad and I stayed up late one night watching
