RJ's First Smoke - Part 1

[smokinron]

RJ’S FIRST SMOKE, PART ONE

It was Christmas Eve 1958. There was a tradition in the Zaleski family. Every year on Christmas Eve Mom and RJ went to church for the 7:30 PM Communion Service at St. Peter’s Lutheran Church and when they came home Dad would greet them in the front room with the news that while they were in church Santa Claus had come. They would all open the packages Santa had left for them and exchange the gifts they had bought for each other. This little after-church was always a special time. It amounted to a couple of hours when the they were alone, when Mom was done with all her cooking and baking and Dad was in a really good mood thanks to a full day of drinking beer. Later in the evening Dad’s brothers and sisters would begin to arrive. They were all Catholic. Those who didn’t go to church would come over around 11 and those who did would come over after Midnight Mass. Mom would always put out a big spread of Polish sausage, baked spaghetti, potato salad, Jello salads – the whole works.

Christmas Eve 1958 had started like every other year RJ could remember. He had just turned 10 the week before and had helped Mom in the kitchen and had watched his Dad’s mood steadily improve with every beer he downed. When everything was ready and the dishes done, they ate a little bite and got ready for church. RJ sensed that this was going to be a great Christmas and he squirmed with anticipation all through the church service. Afterwards he ran the four blocks home, getting there way ahead of his mother in her high-heeled shoes. Dad met them at the door as usual, but this year had a really big grin. He held RJ on the front porch, stalling until Mom caught up.

Then they walked into the living room for Dad’s announcement, but he just led RJ slowly toward the dining room, where in one corner there sat an electric train all set up on a 4x8 sheet of plywood painted green with roads of colored plastic tape and all the buildings of a small village. RJ’s mouth dropped and his eyes got bigger and bigger as he ran to look at the village, his village. His Dad, who looked just as excited as his son, knelt down and reached for the controls to show RJ how to operate it. RJ threw himself down on the floor beside his Dad and gave him a big hug. When RJ had had a moment or two to absorb it all, he noticed that Santa must have come right after they left for church and that Dad must have been playing with the train himself, because beside Dad on the floor was an empty bottle of beer, a full pack and an empty pack of Marlboros alongside an ashtray full of butts.
Dad had always been a Camel guy, but about six months ago he had switched to Marlboros after a weekend visit from Dad’s niece Ann and her husband Mac. They were both army officers and Dad really seemed to like Mac. During their visits the two men would sit at the kitchen table, having drinks, smoking cigarettes and talking about politics. RJ loved to hang around them and would bring some of his toys into the kitchen and play on the floor nearby. He had heard Mac say that he had switched to Marlboros because his boss, the general, had switched. He told Dad that they were pretty good. When Mac offered Dad a Marlboro to try, RJ reached for his pack of candy cigarettes and took one out. He loved to watch Mac and his Dad smoke.

Watching his Dad take a cigarette from the pack Uncle Mac held in his hand, RJ carefully imitating his father’s moves - he took out one of the sugar sticks, put it in his mouth, and pretended to light it. As he “smoked” his candy cigarette, he studied both men very closely and tried to imitate their every move. He secretly wished he was old enough to sit at the table with them. Mac was big and strong and he had a face that reminded RJ of the men in the Marlboro cigarette ads he had started noticing in Life Magazine. They all looked really serious and had tattoos on the backs of their left hands. Looking at these “Marlboro Men” in the ads stirred up something in RJ that he did not understand yet, but he did understand that when he was old enough, he would smoke like Mac and his Dad.

Smoking the cigarette from Mac, Dad started talking about smoking. He told Uncle Mac that he had always smoked Camels and really liked them but, taking a deep drag on the Marlboro he held in his hand, he said it was good, damn good. Then Dad started to tell a story RJ had never heard before. Dad said that one day he and his older brother – that would be Uncle John – were playing out back behind their house. He said that John led him back behind the garage and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and taught him how to smoke. Dad was 8 and his older brother was 10. Dad laughed and said, “That’s how it all started. From that day on, I’ve been a Camel guy.” Mac shared the laugh and said that he was about the same age when he snuck his first smoke. He said he didn’t smoke all that much until he went into the army at age 18, just before World War II. Mac explained that all the soldiers got packs of Lucky Strikes with their rations. “That’s how I became a Lucky’s man,” Mac said. That sure got RJ thinking as he held the candy cigarette between his teeth and began to bite off pieces.

So here he was, sitting on the floor, leaning against his Dad, watching the black Lionel engine race around the circuit, blowing smoke from its smoke stack. Dad had been operating the controls, but he nudged RJ into position and said, “You take over the controls, Son.” RJ reached for the lever that controlled the speed of the train. As he did so, Dad reached for his Marlboro box and took one out. RJ’s eyes darted between watching the train and watching his Dad. With one hand on the controls, RJ reached for a pack of candy cigarettes in his pocket. As Dad held a lit match to the end of the cigarette, RJ put a candy cigarette in his mouth. Dad lit the cigarette and exhaled a burst of smoke. RJ tried to inhale some of the smoke Dad was exhaling and it felt good. He loved the smell of Dad’s smoke.

Meanwhile, Dad left RJ to play with his train and went to the kitchen. A moment later he came back with a bottle of beer in his hand and sat down on the floor again next to RJ, leaning his back against the wall and watched his son operate the train. He was thinking how great it was that the kid really seemed to be into this train, but then the kid had always been into trains. When he was little father and son would go downtown to the train station and watch the trains come through. And then there was the little train at the local amusement park. It was part of the summer ritual to go there and ride the train through the manicured garden.

RJ was semi-lost in running the train, slowing it down as the engine approached a curve, then gradually increasing the speed as it came into a straight run. But he was also aware of his dad’s closeness. Dad usually didn’t get so close anymore, now that RJ was getting bigger. It felt good; Dad was obviously in a good mood fueled by the beer and the emotions of the moment. Out of the corner of his eye, RJ noticed his Dad reach for his box of Marlboros and as he did, RJ quickly brought the train to a stop in front of the station. As his Dad took a cigarette from the pack, RJ reached out and said, “Dad, can I have one, too?”

His dad was caught completely off-guard. Holy Fuck, the kid was only 10 years old. Then, in a flash he remembered his first cigarette, when he was 8 years old. He also remembered that shortly after that first cigarette he and his brother were out back again, sneaking a smoke behind the garage when they were discovered by their dad. The old man had yanked the cigarettes from their mouths, dragged the two of them into the garage and beat the shit out of them with his belt strap. But it had not stopped either of them from smoking. They just became sneakier and were pack-a-day smokers by the time they were 10!

“What the fuck,” he thought, “the kid is bound to try it sooner or later and so it might as well be me who teaches him. With that he shot a quick glance toward the kitchen and saw that his wife was still working frantically to get everything together in preparation for their expected guests, so he put his finger up to his mouth to signal RJ to be quiet and led his son to the living room where they took a seat on the couch – and where they could not be seen from the kitchen. He handed RJ a cigarette and watched his son put it between his lips. Then the kid took the book of matches, got one out and lit it. He said, “OK RJ, raise the flame to the end of the cigarette and suck on it gently until it glows red, then exhale. RJ did what his dad said and felt his mouth fill with warm smoke, which he blew out. He took the cigarette between his thumb and fore finger and handed it up to his dad with a big smile. To his surprise, dad said, “hang onto it, son. Put it back in your mouth, suck on it again and then open your mouth a little to inhale the smoke. RJ did and this time he felt the smoke fill his mouth and go down his throat and into his lungs. With the cigarette still between his lips, he opened his mouth again and exhaled a cloud of white smoke.

He let out a little cough, but didn’t turn white or anything. “That’s good,” his Dad thought. Without any prompting, the kid took another drag and took the cigarette from his mouth between his first two fingers. He inhaled again, this time a little more deeply. He looked up at his dad with a big, shit-eating grin on his face and blew the smoke in his father’s face. His dad laughed. But just then he heard his wife walking toward the living room. He quickly reached for the cigarette, but she got there just in to time to see the handover.

Her jaw dropped and she flashed her husband a dirty look, but before she could say anything the door bell rang. So she just kept walking. Dad knew there would be hell to pay later that night, but for the moment, he looked down at his son with a grin and said, “Have another puff for now, but be quick.”


Joe knew he was in big trouble with his wife. All the while their guests were there, she kept shooting icy glances in his direction. Finally, when all the guests had left, Joe took RJ up to bed and tucked him in. “Are we in trouble because you let me smoke,” RJ asked earnestly. He must have noticed his mother’s glares, too, so Joe smiled and said, “You’re not in any trouble, Buddy, but your old man is!’ “I’m sorry, Daddy,” RJ said. Joe listened as RJ said his prayers, then he kissed his son on the forehead and said good night.

Louise was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. “What the hell were you thinking, Joe? Giving a cigarette to an ten-year-old?” She was really pissed. “Look,” he said, “We were playing with the train and I went to light a cigarette and the kid asked me if he could have one. What was I supposed to say, Louise?”

“You could have said ‘no’; you could have said, ‘maybe when you’re older.’ You could have said all kinds of things.”

“I know, Louise, I was about to say ‘no’ when I got thinking that I was only eight when I had my first cigarette with my brother John. When my old man caught us he beat the holy crap out of us. So the next day we went to the playground and smoked there. He beat us all the time, sometimes for no reason. John and I were both scared shitless of him and we hated his guts. I don’t want it to be like that between my son and me. Look, we both smoke and all our relatives and friends smoke. The kid sees it all the time. If we tell him he can’t smoke, he’ll just sneak around. I’d rather let him do it and then set some ground rules for him.

Louise knew all about Joe and his father. The man drank and when he did he was a mean drunk. She knew Joe wanted to be a better father than his had been. But let an eight-year-old smoke? She didn’t start smoking until she started dating Joe. They’d be out on a date, riding in Joe’s car, and he’d ask her to light a cigarette for him. After a few times, she began taking a couple of drags off it before she handed it to him. Little by little, she began to enjoy it and, before you know it, she was hooked. But she knew it was different with boys; her brother had started smoking when he was nine or ten and she remembered that by the time she was in eighth grade damn near every boy in her school smoked.
“OK,” she said, “I get it: he’s a boy and all boys try to smoke sooner or later – I just wish it was later. It’s hard for me to think of my baby as a smoker!

“Well, he’s not a baby anymore,” Joe said, beginning to feel like he was going to win the argument. “How about if we tell him that he can have a couple of cigarettes a day, here, when he’s with us. We won’t let him smoke outside where the neighbors can see him, or at school. Then as he gets older we can loosen up the rules.”

“Well, I guess that would be OK. He could tell she was not 100% sold on the idea, but she was willing to give it a try.

Louise went to the bathroom to get undressed and brush her teeth. Joe sat down in the living room and smoked a cigarette. What he knew that his wife had yet to realize fully was that a bridge had been crossed and there was no going back. The kid had tasted tobacco and seemed to like it. He wasn’t hooked, of course, but it wouldn’t take long. When he finished his cigarette, and before his wife got done in the bathroom, Joe went to the desk and got out a new pack of Marlboros and quickly stuck in RJ’s Christmas stocking.

They all slept late the next morning, even RJ; hell, there was no reason to get up early – Santa had already been there. When a sleepy-eyed RJ came down the stairs and walked into the kitchen his parents were sitting there having their coffee. He smiled and said, “Merry Christmas, Mom, Dad!”
“Good morning and Merry Christmas, RJ,” his mother said, trying hard to be cheery. “Hey, Son, Merry Christmas,” his dad said, obviously still in a good mood from the night before. “What would you like, Son?” his mother asked.

“I’ll just get myself some juice,” he said, opening the refrigerator. He poured himself a glass of orange juice, drank it, and went back to the refrigerator for a glass of milk. He downed that with some coffee cake his mother had baked the day before. Everyone was really quiet. Finally, his mother broke the silence. “How about we all go to the living room and see what Santa left in your stocking, RJ?”

“OK,” he said, brightening up. They all went to the living room and RJ took the large stocking off the hook and sat down on the couch between his mother and dad to see what was in it. There were a couple of small items to go with his new train, some special candy that he liked, and way down at the bottom, a pack of Marlboros. “Wow, cool,” RJ said, his face lighting up brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree. “Santa gave me a pack of real cigarettes, not just the candy ones.” He took the pack and started to open it.

“Wait a minute.” His dad said. Taking the pack one hand, he held his son’s in the other and showed him how to tap down the pack. “You need to do this every time you open a new pack,” Joe said, “It compacts the tobacco and makes for a better smoke.”

“Oh, yeah,” RJ said, “I should’ve remembered, Dad; I’ve only seen you do it like a million times.” He took the pack in his own hands and repeated the action. The he pulled on the cellophane strip, pulled it around the pack and took off the top of the wrapper, opened the box and pulled out the loose piece of foil. Then he coaxed out the first cigarette. He was about to take it, when he hesitated for a moment, looked up at his dad sitting next to him, and said with a grin, “Do you want one?”

Joe couldn’t help grinning. “Thanks, Son,” he said, “Don’t mind if I do.” RJ then made a move to take the next one for himself, but before he could, his dad said, “Aren’t you going to offer one to your mother?” “Oh right; sorry, Mom. Would you like one?” he said, holding the pack toward her. “Not right now, RJ,” she said, “But thanks anyway.”

RJ proudly took one of the cigarettes from the box, put it toward the corner of his mouth, just like his dad did. “Santa forgot to leave me any matches,” he said with a chuckle. His dad was way ahead of him. He grabbed a pack of matches from the end table - there were matches all over the house. He struck a light and held the match to RJ’s cigarette, saying, “Draw gentle, Son.” RJ did like his dad had said and blew out a cloud of smoke. Joe lit his own cigarette. Father and son then took the second drag and exhaled streams of smoke. Then they both took their cigarettes between their fingers. RJ held his cigarette just like his father did – deep in the crotch between his first finger and forefinger.

Meanwhile, his mother was taking this all in. “God, the cigarette looked so big in his little hands,” she thought. She wasn’t sure how she felt watching her little boy, her baby, smoke a cigarette. But he didn’t choke or cough and he really seemed into it. “I guess Joe was right,” she thought. “The kid wants it and likes it. If we don’t teach him, he’ll be out on the streets smoking with his friends.
“RJ,” she said, “Why don’t you move over there to the chair so we can talk face-to-face,” she said. “We have to talk about your smoking.” “OK, Mom,” RJ said obediently as he jumped up to take the chair across from where his parents were seated. As he got up, he felt a little light-headed and staggered slightly as he moved to the chair. “Whoa,” he said. His parents both noticed this, too. “It’s OK, son,” Joe said. “Tobacco ‘s got a kick to it and you’re just starting. It will take a little getting used to it.” “I’m OK, Dad; it’s actually kind of a cool feeling,” he said, taking another drag on the cigarette.

“RJ, your dad and I had a talk last night after you went up to bed. I’ll be honest with you, like I always am. I’m not thrilled to see my little boy smoking cigarettes. I guess I figured you’d try to smoke someday, when you were older, just not so soon. I’m OK with it as long as we set a few ground rules. First, for now you can only smoke in the house when Dad and I are here. Second, I don’t want you to have more than a couple of cigarettes a day. You can have one after meals, one in the evening, and one before bed. How does that sound to you?”

“Please, God,” Joe thought, “Don’t let him mouth off to his mother!” “Sure, Mom, that’s fine,” he said, as he took another drag on his cigarette, inhaled, and blew out a cloud of smoke. Then he grinned. He and his dad finished smoking their cigarettes and put them out.
Then they all got dressed. On Christmas Day, they always made the rounds of Dad’s brothers and sisters, stopping at each house for a short visit, a drink, and a chance to see what all the nieces and nephews got from Santa. Before they left, though, they sat down at the kitchen table for a little light lunch. At the end of the meal, Joe and Louise reached for their cigarettes, just like they always did. RJ reached, too, but his pack was still in the living room where he’d left it. He got up to get it, when his dad said, “Here, Son, have one of mine.”

As they all shared this after-eating ritual Louise said, “One other thing, RJ. No smoking when we are out this afternoon and don’t tell anyone you smoke.” “Yes, Mother.” He said, with just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice.


RJ woke up early one morning a couple of days after Christmas. As he lay there, he began to think about having a cigarette and realized that the reason was that he still had a smoky taste on his tongue and in his mouth. Since Christmas he had had a few cigarettes every day. His parents had said that he could have “a couple, two or three” each day, but he had managed to push that to four or five. He liked smoking. It made him feel grown-up and it as cool. He liked the feel of a lit cigarette in his hand; he liked drawing in a mouthful of smoke and then feel it filling his lungs; and he loved blowing out a cloud smoke. It was cool.

He got up and went downstairs to the kitchen where his father was already sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee and smoking a cigarette. “Morning, Dad,” he said with a grin. “Morning, RJ,” his dad replied, adding, “what are you doing up so early?” “I just woke up,” he said, “I guess it’s just the habit of getting up every day for school.” The kid really does take after me, Joe thought. RJ went to the cupboard and grabbed a mug, which he proceeded to fill with coffee. “Since when do you drink coffee?” Joe asked. “Since now,” RJ said tentatively. “Your mother’s not going to like this,” Joe said, “so let’s try this.” He got up, took the cup and poured about half of it back into the pot, then filled it to the brim with milk. “There,” he said, “try that.”

Joe went back to the table, sat down, took a sip of coffee and lit a cigarette. RJ followed his dad to the table and sat down across from his him. He took a sip of his coffee; it tasted good. Then reached into the pocket of his pajamas and took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He took a really deep drag, inhaled and held the smoke in a long time before slowly exhaling a bright cloud of smoke. He smiled with satisfaction.

Watching his son light up, Joe almost said something about the “rules,” but caught himself. “What the hell, he thought, it doesn’t make sense; I’m sitting here smoking, but I’m supposed to tell him he has to wait until after lunch.” So he just sat there watching his son. The kid really seemed to enjoy smoking and he was good at it, almost too good. When they had sat there for awhile, finished their coffee and had something to eat, Joe said, “RJ, what do you say we take a ride this morning? I thought we might go downtown to the toy store and then we can stop down at the train station to watch the trains and maybe have a little lunch. “Sounds great, Dad!” RJ replied. “It’s getting a little boring just sitting home all day.”

Father and son got dressed and an hour or so later they were headed downtown. Sitting in the car, Joe, as usual, lit a cigarette first thing, just like he always did. “Can I have one, too?” RJ asked. “How long has it been since your last one?” “I’ve only had the one with you over coffee.” RJ reminded his dad. “OK, son, go ahead.” Joe said. It was starting already. He knew when his wife started laying down the rules on Christmas morning that it wouldn’t work out that way, but he didn’t want to contradict her in front of the boy, so he kept his mouth shut. But here he was, breaking the rules with his son. He needed to say something.

“RJ,” he began, “you remember the rules your mother laid out on Christmas morning, right?” “Sure, Dad, I remember.” “OK,” Joe said. “Let me try to explain something to you, Son. Your mother isn’t too thrilled about the idea of you smoking. I convinced her that we really can’t stop you from smoking if you really want to. If we said you couldn’t smoke, you’d probably just do it behind our backs, right?” “Probably,” RJ conceded sheepishly. “That’s what I thought,” Joe said. “So let’s be patient and give your mother time to accept this. When you’re at home follow her rules for now, but when you’re with me can have a cigarette whenever you want. But don’t feel like you have to have one every time I do. Just have one when you really want one. OK?” “OK,” RJ replied, as he took another drag on his cigarette.

Watching his son smoke out of the corner of his eye, Joe had a hunch and so he asked, “RJ, when I gave you a cigarette on Christmas Eve, what that really the first one you ever had?” The kid seemed startled by the question and in the moments it took before he answered Joe could sense the mental wheels turning. “No, Daddy, it wasn’t,” he admitted. He paused, apparently to see if the admission was sufficient. When Joe did not respond, he went on, “My friend Jeffy and I were riding our bikes back in September and stopped at the park. Jeffy had a pack of cigarettes and asked me if I wanted to smoke one so I said yes. Since then we sometimes have one together on the way home from school or when we’re out on our bikes.”

“Thanks for being honest, son.” Joe said. “Do Jeffy’s folks know that he smokes?” “Yes,” RJ said, “his dad caught him doing it once in the garage.” “And are they OK with it?” “Yeah,” RJ said. “Completely; they even buy smokes for him.” he explained. “A few days before Christmas, we were smoking a cigarette in his room when his mom walked in. She said that it was OK for Jeffy to smoke, I couldn’t smoke there unless my parents said it was OK. So I promised I’d tell you. On Christmas Eve when we were playing with the train you were in such a good mood that I figured it was a good time to ask you. Besides, I just really felt like I wanted to smoke with my dad. I’ve been watching you smoke all my life and we do lots of stuff together and I wanted to do that, too.”
Joe smiled and really felt a warm glow inside. He loved his son. Thinking back on his relationship with his own dad he said a silent prayer of thanks that his son trusted him enough to be honest. And clearly the kid also knew him pretty well, too.

They arrived at the toy store. RJ was overwhelmed at all the train stuff they had. He looked at everything and finally, in his usual, serious manner, he carefully selected another car for the train, a building, and some telephone poles and street lights. Joe promised to show him how to wire the lights. Then they drove to the train station. It was an old, historic building that had a little deli. There weren’t as many trains as there used to be, at least not as many passenger trains. So they had sandwiches, fries, and Cokes and watched a couple of freight trains go through. And they talked about what they could do to improve the train layout that Santa had given him. Joe thought he’d see how RJ took to the train and if he really got into Joe figured they could build a real layout in the basement. It would be something they could do together. God, he hoped the kid got into it! When they finished eating, Joe reached for his cigarettes and noticed that RJ was reaching for his, too. He put the pack back in his pocket. “No, RJ, remember our agreement. Your mother and I don’t want you smoking out in public yet. There are a lot of people out there who wouldn’t approve and we don’t want to have to explain to everybody and his cousin why we let our 8-year-old smoke. Tell you what, let me pay the check and we’ll have our smoke in the car on the way home.” “OK, Dad,” RJ agreed.
Joe paid the check, left the waitress a tip, and they left the deli. “Race you to the car,” Joe said. They ran to the car opened their doors and got in. Nobody won. Joe started the engine, reached for cigarettes, turned to his son and said, “OK, go for, RJ.” RJ flashed him a big grin and took out his own pack of cigarettes. The two lit up and Joe drove away. As they drove home Joe asked, “What is it about smoking that you like, Son?” “Everything,” RJ replied, taking another drag on his cigarette. “I like the feel of a pack of cigarettes in my pocket. I like the smell of the smoke and the taste in my mouth. I like the feel of a cigarette in my hand. And it makes me feel grown up. The last time Mac and Ann were here I was watching you and Mac smoke and talk. It just seems, I don’t know, kind of like smoking is something that two men do together.” So, the kid didn’t start smoking just because his friends did; it because he really wanted to.

Joe stopped at a Walgreens, told RJ to wait in the car, ran in, and moments later came out with a bag that he handed his son. Inside was a carton of Marlboros, a box of book matches and an ashtray. “When we get home, RJ, take these up to your room. Follow your mother’s rules for now, but you can also smoke in your room when you want. A carton should last you for awhile, but when you go through it, let me know and I’ll get you another.” “Thanks, Daddy.” RJ said.

When they got home, RJ went straight to his room and took out the carton of cigarettes and put it in one of his desk drawers along with the matches. He set the ashtray on the desk and then got out the stuff he bought at the toy store. Then he smoked a cigarette, thinking about his friend Jeffy; he could hardly wait to see him.


Louise was sitting in the living room, smoking a cigarette and looking at a magazine when her two men came home. RJ had said a quick “Hi, Mom!” while in transit up the stairs to his bedroom, carrying a couple of bags. Joe sat down near her. “So, how was the father/son shopping trip?” she asked. “It was fun,” he said. “We went to the toy store and he bought some more stuff for his train set and then we went down to the train station for lunch. On the way home I stopped at Walgreens and bought him a carton of cigarettes and an ashtray for his room.” “Oh,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“Louise, why exactly are you so opposed to RJ smoking?” Joe asked. “It’s just that he’s so young and if we let him smoke and actually encourage it, I’m afraid that we’ll have problems at school and that other mothers will not want him to play with their boys. Like Jeffy’s mother, Mrs. Vachek, for instance; if she found we let RJ smoke she probably wouldn’t let the boys play anymore. Jeffy’s a sweet little boy, very polite and well-mannered."

Joe wanted to attack the age issue. What the hell did it matter how old he was? Smoking was basically a harmless pleasure. Everybody smoked, even doctors; the last time they took RJ for a check-up they had smoked a cigarette with his pediatrician as he talked to them about the exam. If smoking was bad for people, wouldn’t the doctors be against it? But he decided to go with the other argument.

“Boy do I have a news flash for you! It’s that sweet little boy who gave our son his first cigarette.” He filled her in on what RJ had told him earlier in the day. “And the Vacheks are really OK with their son smoking?” “Apparently,” Joe replied. “Well, I’m going to give Irene a call and straighten this out.”

“Why don’t you let me do that, Louise.” She agreed, because she knew she was pissed off and afraid she might wind up giving the woman a piece of her mind. So Joe went to the desk and dialed the Vachek’s number. Sam Vachek, Jeffy’s dad, answered. Joe explained why he was calling. Sam said his wife was visiting with her mother, but invited the three of them to come over.

When Joe got off the phone, he gave relayed the invitation to Louise, who said, “Why don’t you and RJ go; I can talk with Irene later, in a day or so when she’s back.” Joe was a little relieved. He figured there might be a better outcome if the two men handled it. So he went to the foot of the stairs and shouted up to RJ, “RJ get your smokes and come on down; we’re going to pay a call on the Vacheks.”

RJ came down. They got on the coats and walked down the street a few doors to the Vachek home. Sam was at the door and greeted them with a big smile and warm welcome. “Where’s your wife?” he asked. “She said she’d talk to Irene later.” Sam seemed to pick up on Joe’s meaning and led them to the living room where Jeffy was playing on the floor with some really cool John Deere tractors and farm implements that he probably got for Christmas. “Hey, RJ, come see what I got for Christmas.” RJ raced over to his buddy and got down on the floor with him.

Meanwhile, Joe sat down. A moment later Sam came back from the kitchen with two cold beers and the two men started talking. Joe began by recounting the developments of the last few days, including his wife’s misgivings. Sam chuckled when Joe told him what Louise had said as they were talking earlier – about her fears that other mothers wouldn’t want to let their sons play with RJ if they knew he smoked. When Joe had finished, Sam said, “Hey, man, I’m sorry it was our son who introduced your son to the demon tobacco weed.” Joe replied, “No problem, Sam; if it wasn’t Jeffy it would have been somebody else’s kid. Sam said thanks, lit a cigarette and began to tell his own story.
“Our story is pretty much like yours, Joe, except that day last summer I went out to the garage to get something and came across Jeffy smoking one of my wife’s cigarettes. I startled the shit out of him and he tried to get rid of the cigarette, but didn’t make it. I asked him how long this had been going on and he said that he’d only done it a couple of times. I was caught off-guard and there was a long silence while I was trying to figure out how to respond. Meanwhile, the kid is looking up at me trying to figure out how I was going to respond – was I going to chew him out, spank him, or what?”

“I said, ‘Let’s sit down and talk about this, Jeffy.’ So we sat down on the floor and I lit a cigarette and then handed him my pack of Pall Malls and said, ‘Take one, Son, you didn’t get to finish the one you were smoking when I walked in on you.’ He looked relieved, but a little wary, still not sure where I was going with this. When I lit up, I noticed that he was not inhaling, so I asked if he would like me to teach him how to smoke the right way. I figured if I taught him how to inhale, he’d get sick and that would be the end of it for now, at least. But the kid took a drag, inhaled like I showed him, exhaled a big could of smoke, looked up at me with a grin and said, ‘Thanks, Dad, the smoke tastes a whole lot better when you take it in all the way.’ Then he took another, deeper drag, and looked as happy as a pig in shit.

“’Now what the fuck do I do?’ I thought. ‘I’ve just taught my son so smoke unfiltered cigarettes and he likes it. What the fuck am I going to tell his mother.’”

“What did you tell her?” Joe asked. “Well, I told Jeffy to let me tell his mother and said that for now he should tell me if he wanted a cigarette. I kind of figured maybe letting him have a smoke would satisfy him for awhile, but that same day, after I finished mowing the lawn, he asked if we could go for a ride after lunch. I said ‘sure’ but no sooner that we got into the car, the kid turns to me and says, ‘OK can I have a cigarette now that we’re alone?’ So much for that theory!”

So that night I told Irene what had happened. She reacted pretty much like your wife did, you know – ‘Oh, he’s so young, still a little boy and what will his playmates’ mothers think if they find out we let him smoke?’ You get the picture. So I reminded her that she grew up on a farm in the south and that her father, grandfather and uncles raised tobacco. They didn’t encourage the kids to smoke, but when they wanted to start all they had to do was ask and they were welcomed to the club.”

“She thought about it and replied, ‘Yeah, but we’re not in Kentucky anymore; we’re in Michigan and they don’t grow tobacco here. And besides, this town is full of Baptists and other Bible-thumping Christians. It’s not at all like it is in the South.’ She had a point, but I told her, ‘Look, if we tell him he can’t smoke, he’ll just go back to sneaking smokes. If we let him smoke at home we can control it to some extent.’”

“She came around pretty quickly, had a talk with Jeffy and so we let him smoke at home. But then when school started up again in the fall, we get a call from the school one day to come in for a teacher’s conference. Irene went in and the teacher informs her that her son was caught smoking cigarettes on the school grounds and when he was confronted, he tells them that his parents let him smoke. The teacher was all in a huff and that was all Irene needed. She arched her back like a momma lion protecting her cub. She gave that prissy bitch a piece of her mind, told her she was the proud daughter of tobacco farmers and that he was her child, this is a free country and she can raise her son any way she chooses.”

When Sam had finished, Joe chuckled and said, “Louise isn’t there yet, but I suspect in a similar situation she would have a similar reaction. But you and I are completely on the same page. Regardless of their age, if our boys want to smoke there’s not a hell of lot we can do, so we might as well stand with them. I know my childhood would have been a lot happier if my dad had taken it in stride. Letting our sons smoke means staying a part of their lives as they grow into men.”

“How about another beer, Joe?” Sam asked. “Don’t mind if I do, Pal.” Joe replied. When Sam came back from the kitchen, the two men went over and joined their sons who were playing contentedly on the floor. Sam gave the boys Pepsis and said, “How about a smoke break, boys?” The boys reached for their cigarettes and RJ lit up a Marlboro while Jeffy lit up one of his Pall Malls. Their fathers lit up, too, and told their sons that everything was cool – RJ was welcome to smoke at the Vachek’s and Jeffy would be welcome to smoke at the Zaleskis. The boys were beaming and sat there on the floor smoking their cigarettes while their fathers started playing with the John Deere tractors.

If you liked the story, check out the fantasy pics in Smokin Pics.

[BTJeff]

a new CLASSIC in the making, PLUS A GREAT FANTASY PIX IN SMOKIN PIX FORUM.

dont stop now, i vote for part 2!

[kyle]

RON,
Anxious to see where this goes next!