Years ago, there was a curious young kid who had a curious young friend; and together they did what curious young people do: stupid things. In their case, they would pick up half-smoked cigarettes on the side of the road and smoke them. That developed into buying a pack of cigarettes (less than a dollar per pack back in the Dark Ages), and huffing and puffing a whole pack together. It was quick work because they refused to inhale.
Then, because it was against the law—the Law of the Parents, no less—they applied the toothpaste-mouthwash solution, with limited success. Fortunately, courage, wisdom, and common sense prevailed, and they stopped that stupid habit long before they became suckers in the truest sense of the word.
Not everyone is so courageous and wise, or marked by common sense, and our cemeteries can attest to that.
I suppose in a moment of ignorance, someone could accuse me of being guilty of "smokerphoia." The ignorance, of course, would be on their part, not mine. This is because that is not an accurate charge: I am not "afraid of smokers"--I just love fresh, clean air, and a healthy, robust body.
Would that then make me an "atmosphericophile"?
Smokers feel they have rights, and I suppose they do. But when their right to puff like a magic dragon intersects with my right to keep poison out of my lungs, through second-hand smoke, we have trouble.
I don't think I have any right to stop people from smoking in the privacy of their own home, or some other appropriate space; but there's a place and a time where they have no right to mess with my health or peace of mind.
Does that make me intolerant because I see the harm it does to me, mine, and others? Am I a health bigot because I am aware of the incalculable cost smoking has on our health system, and by extension, our economy? Or because I see the damage it has done worldwide to individuals? No, I didn't think so either.
Some smokers may argue that I should accept their lifestyle because they were born that way. That is rubbish of the highest (or would that be "lowest"?) degree. There may be reasons beyond their control why they started smoking—an abusive relative, peer pressure, or deep feelings of inferiority—but it is sad that they have to hide behind such tragic experiences. It would take effort, but they could stop it if they really wanted to.
The experience is no doubt true, but the reasoning is false.
You may or may not recall the Marlboro Man from years ago. (Just for the record, they didn't use me for the model.) He is the antithesis of everything I am: cool, macho, handsome, and suave. The subtle message is simple: Smoke Marlboro cigarettes and you too will be cool, macho, handsome, and suave.
Too bad there wasn't more integrity in television's advertising department. Too bad they never showed all the cancer wards of the world, the place where all the wannabe Marlboro Men (and women) end up—emaciated, frightened, lonely, and...dead.
No, the false image of the wonderful lifestyle of cigarette smokers is more than a bad choice. It's an evil option that has spelled doom and gloom for thousands of people, both the smokers and the victims of second-hand smoke. The thought that it can't do any harm, that everyone has the right to do as they please, that there are no consequences with certain lifestyle choices, is the depth of ignorance and stupidity.
Strange, isn't it, that I choose to abstain from that sort of lifestyle and I am branded as having a phobia. A phobia of what, a healthy body? Peace of mind? Clear conscience? Here's the deal: Don't make me smoke and I won't make you eat raw carrots. Let me choose to do what I think is best for me, so long as you choose what is best (not fun, convenient, or gratifying) for you.
That's something that young kid did forty-five years ago. It was one of the most courageous, wisest choice I ever made.
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