You can see them if you look in the alleys, behind the stores, at a distance from the flow of the passersby. They pace on sidewalks – maybe alone or in groups of three, four, sometimes more – as they attempt to be nonchalant, in possession of their rights to be there.
Others of their kind stand just outside office doorways, looking into the distance, as they flip their ashes.
They struggle to hide their isolation, knowing all along that they're different, they stand out, conspicuous even in their efforts to be invisible.
They are the hangers-on, the hold-overs from a time that progressively ebbs and forever holds their longing for an age when things were better for them and their ilk. A time when they weren't pushed out of the restaurants, the theaters, the hotels, the shopping centers. A time when they were thought to be suave, at home in social situations and privy to the more enjoyable things in life.
“There's nothing like a smoke and a cup of coffee after a great meal,” they chant, wishing it could go on forever.
They are the displaced smokers in a world where smoking is relegated to the lower echelons of society. They are the holdovers from another age when smoking cigarettes was normal, accepted, admired even.
“Smoke 'em if you gott'em,” fried foods and couch potatoes. The lost mainstays from a better time, they claim.
They continue to hand over big bucks to satisfy their cravings. If cornered, they lie easily about the cost of their addition, and they feel the pangs of guilt in knowing that their habit takes precedence, even over family necessities.
“If it comes down to it, sure I'd choose to buy milk for my babies instead of tobacco?” they muse, assuring themselves that they would never have to make that choice. “I'm pretty sure I would.”
They don't care that cigarette smoking and secondhand smoke cause one in five deaths each year in the United States. That's more than 480,000 deaths annually that are directly attributed to smoking cigarettes and to secondhand smoke. About 278, 500 men and 201,700 women annually, or more than twice the population of Jackson, Miss.
They shrug their shoulders at research concerning the harmful effects of using tobacco of any kind. They ignore the fact that cigarette smoking is highest among persons with 12 or fewer years of education, and that cigarette smoking is higher among persons living below the poverty level than those living above the poverty level.
“Statistics! They can't shame me! That means nothing to me!”
And then, something unexpected comes along.
Quite unplanned, something uninvited and totally unexplained comes along.
It could manifest itself in something as traumatic as the detection of a cancer cell.
“Cancer? I've smoked for years, but I never thought I'd have cancer.”
Or, the life changing moment could come as subtly as a whispered voice from deep inside.
“Booze and Butts,” the sign reads on the window of a store situated in a seedy section of town.
“Booze and Butts?” the displaced smoker thinks with disgust. “Is that me? Booze and Butts! I'll never lower myself to get my smokes from a place as grungy as that.”
It's gotten to be where smokers have to be careful about where they buy their smokes. Used to be a person could pop into a store and replenish their supply without feeling the slightest twinge of guilt. Folks even used to be able to buy smokes from vending machines.
Those days are gone. People are looking; taking stock in who folks really are.
“Why, I never knew you were a smoker,” a lady says to the man standing at the customer service desk and trying to be unnoticed. He asks the clerk for a carton of Marlboro Lights.
“I always thought more highly of you,” the lady says, taken aback.
The life changing moment could even come from the mouth of a totally unsuspecting clerk.
“That'll be $53.30, sir!” the clerk responds. “Would you like milk for your babies with that?”
