text: \- TAKE A LISTEN! We saw it in the gutter. There was almost half left. Our gang, three brothers and me, had been searching the streets and alleys for at least an hour. I was the youngest at five. The brothers ranged from six to ten. They were rowdy and were leading me toward something, although not illegal, something that I knew could get me into trouble. We had money, all of us. I had a penny, and they had around ten cents among them, so there was no need to steal. We could buy what we needed at almost any store in our small town. I was sent in. I gave the proprietor my penny and asked for one pack of....matches in a box. Yes! We were about to smoke any cigarette butt that had even a little life left in it. At times, we would even light the match and put the dry end in our mouths for a couple of seconds. I Did That! When we were young we often bought candy cigarettes and bubble gum cigars. Now, my parents did not smoke, and I don't know about the other boys' parents. No one in town had a television, but there were two movie theaters that showed old movies from the 1930's. There were many old westerns with stars like Tim McCoy, Bob Steele, Lash LaRue, and the Durango Kid. We didn't even know what a first-run was. Almost all the movie stars smoked, so we thought we could too. This was just after World War II. We saw lots of reels showing soldiers smoking. It seemed the thing to do. We eventually got the stub lit, and each of us took a puff. I did not inhale, and I doubt that they did either. I guess it could be like the young boy of the fifties hiding a Playboy book under his bed, or a hippy of the sixties trying his first joint. It was just getting away with something. I only did it that one day, but I didn't like it. Even now, I can't believe *I Did That.* My second encounter with smoking was around 1961. I was a sophomore at one of our local junior colleges. I was on the varsity baseball team but wasn't a starter until the second half of the season when our all-star center fielder failed a class and could not play until the next season. Most of the players were 1-2 years older and much bigger than I was, but I held my own. Now, I was one of the guys. One day we had a late game and a few hours to kill. One player said he was going into town to get something to eat as there were no fast food places at that time. He asked me and four others to go with him in his Oldsmobile. Our college was in the hills with winding roads and sharp curves. I was in the middle in the back seat. Just after we started, he gave a cherry flavored cigar to everyone in the car. Everyone lit up as did I. They smelled great. I took a couple of puffs without inhaling and knew I didn't want any part of that cigar. I gave it to one of the other players. All of them puffed and inhaled and exhaled as our driver sped at around 50 miles per hour through the hills. The tires squealed, and I remembered that I had retreads on my Studebaker. I hoped he didn't have retreads because they had a tendency to come apart. The car filled with smoke. It looked like Cheech and Chong's movie "Up In Smoke". The driver was holding his head out the window to see where he was going. Los Angeles was never that smoggy. I could barely breathe and thought we might crash at any moment. I thought I was about to die! I never went with them again. But, I Did That! *Once*! My last attempt at smoking happened during my first year of graduate school. I was working a late shift at a Safeway store where I was a clerk. It was close to midnight when I finished work. The drive home was about 30 minutes. It was around 65 degrees, quiet, and I had my new beautiful, alpine white, four-year-old 1958 Chevy Impala, a 2-door hardtop that looked just like the one in the movie "American Graffiti". After I counted out my store register, I put 25 cents in it and took a pack of cigarettes. It was a nice night and with a long ride home and the A.M. radio playing music, I decided to have a smoke. I started driving, took out a cigarette, lit it and tried to smoke. This did not work out well. I puffed a few times and some ashes appeared at the tip. Everything seemed great until the ashes dropped between my legs and onto my beautiful seat. Luckily, there were no other cars out at that time as I looked down and frantically brushed the ashes off the seat. I probably was swerving. That was it. Out the window went the cigarette followed by the rest of the pack. Last try at smoking for me. Yes, I Did That! I didn't think that maybe some other 5-10 year old might find the whole pack the next day. I am so glad that I failed at smoking. I often think about how much it could have cost me: the price of cigarettes, smelly clothes, new car seats, bad breath, my health. Two puffs on a cigarette butt at age five, a couple of puffs on a cigar, and a puff or two on a cigarette that could have burned a hole in my Impala's seat and that was the sum total of my smoking thrills. Had I continued to smoke, I may not have been able to tell my story.