Puff the Magic Killer

I grew up reading the signs and hearing the lectures when I went to visit my grandfather. If you even got him started on the subject of smoking or using any tobacco product of any kind, you were likely to get an earful. He was quite against the issue to almost the point of obsession, but then again, he obsessed over a lot of things.

Yet I myself can testify that smoking isn't one of my "fond" habits. Sure, biting your nails is a no no, but I don't think chunks of fingernail bits are going to clog up your lungs. I am surprised by myself at times in how I handle a smoke-filled room or walk past those puffers. When I drive over to John’s house, the smoking issue doesn’t bother me that much, mostly because I am: 1.) Used to it, 2.) I know them, they are nice people. But people I pass on the sidewalks of Edinboro who are smokin’ it right a long in between their fingers and blowing it out of their nose holes; I find myself holding my breath long enough to make it past them. Cancer is your choice, not mine. Keep it to yourself please.

I don’t hate smokers, now don’t get me wrong. If I did, there’s a lot of people to hate out there, and some of those people I know and love. It’s the habit I despise and don’t fully understand. If people puffed for taste and health benefits, I’m sure there would be a dramatic difference. Rather, people are addicted and it’s the cool thing to do. Many of them, in fact, want to quit; they just can’t. I honor those who do try and succeed. I'm sure it's not a walk in the park.

There are so many sides of the issue that I don’t even want or care to explore. I just don’t understand sometimes. Why the hassle? It’s a shame it’s a habit, because it’s nothing but a hazard.