Smoke 'Em if You Got 'Em (LSMFT)

The Old Man does not smoke. That wasn't always the case. My smoking history goes back a long way. It was golf day today....my usual game emerged. I had my normal mix of goofy shots, but added a new one for me; A Rodney King (over clubbed). My good buddy, Jay, was back with us today after dodging a big bullet a couple of weeks ago. He had a heart attack. Some angioplasty and a stint and he was better than new, but its encouraging some lifestyle changes. One of these is to quit smoking. This along with some dietary tweaking and he should be good to go.

My long-time-ago-buddy-and-general-partner-in-crime and I loved Thursdays. He had an aunt who always went to the beauty shop on Thursday. At the appointed time, my bud would sneak into her room and relieve her of one pack of Luckies from the carton she always kept there. Then it was off to "the hut".

The hut was a mixed aggregation of materials we had scavenged from around our houses and the neighborhood. We were at that awkward in-between age where part of us wanted to be Daniel Boone, camping out in the wilderness, and the other part wanted to be involved with girls but we didn't quite understand how. So our "huts" were combinations of logs, pine branches, canvas tarps, leaves, and any other componentry we could manage. We talked about inviting some of the neighborhood girls into our "Casbah" but we were gutless plus they were smarter than that anyway. The hut was our refuge, our clubhouse, our hiding place....you name it. The Hut also became the "smoking lounge". Far from prying eyes, we could indulge our sinful ways. Of course, at that age, one "cig" was all we could take and we hadn't progressed to "inhale" yet. I remember later on how it felt the first time I did inhale. My ears still ring.

One particular day, we had "fired them up" and I heard my dad calling. He had stopped his car at the top of the bank from our hut, and needed me for some reason. I quickly handed off my "weed" and crawled out of the hut. I'm sure when I threw back the flap of canvas that was the door, it must have looked like Cheech & Chong rolling out of an east LA lowrider. I don't remember what Dad wanted, but it was fine. The rest of that evening, he just looked at me with the slightest vestiges of a smile. Do you think he knew?

During the years I've smoked Marlboro, Chesterfield, Pall Mall, Winston, Camels and Kools. I've smoked cigars and had a several year relationship with a pipe. I still sometimes miss the pipe.
I don't do any of that any more and haven't for 9 years. But every once in a while, I miss my all time favorites.....Lucky Strike. With a cup of coffee or after a good meal, few things can bring such contentment. Should they ever discover that they were wrong about all of the horrible health risks attributed to smoking, and that its really good for you, I'll be down at the 7-11, and back in a minute.

Oh, and the LSMFT? It was the slogan for Luckies..."Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco".