Conquering my Nicotine Addiction

Conquering My Nicotine Addiction

By Nate Bender

8/28/14

Smoking of cigars, pipes and cigarettes were every day parts of my formative years in rural Iowa.  Virtually all men, and in my youthful view all real men, seemed to smoke one or more of the three nicotine-laced items.  I have no memory of ever witnessing women or girls smoking, as it would have no doubt been deemed unladylike behavior!

Even before my high school years I was drawn to smoking.  It sounds gross now to think of having done it, I even resorted to retrieving cigarette butts off the roadways and smoking what was left. 

Once I even sneaked a fresh cigarette out of an open pack left on a nearby farmer’s table.  Okay, I stole it!

When I was around 10 years of age, I was caught stealing a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes from one of the three small grocery stores in our town.  The resulting whipping from my father left an enduring mark on my psyche and rear end!  I was wrought with humiliation which was compounded by sibling taunts about being a “thief.” 

Working on farms in my teen years offered revenue to afford buying my own cigarettes, often via paying an adult to be the front-runner, when I was not of legal age.  This tactic was also employed in procuring beer!  My-oh-my, it’s no wonder I was so guilt-ridden during all of my developmental years!  Here I thought it was purely the spin-off of Lutheran Church guilt indoctrinations!

At home I had daily exposures to the fine art of rolling-your-own cigarettes.  Dad had his can of Prince Albert tobacco and paper thins in his front shirt pockets, requiring ready access to the art of making fresh cigarettes.  These shirt pockets could also be found to hold one or more cigars.

Annually, we journeyed to Parker, South Dakota for a week’s visit with Grandma and Grandpa Langrehr and other relatives in the area.  Grandpa was a pipe smoker and being witness to the steps he employed to launch his smoking captured my attention.  The aroma was also captivating.

During the summer I turned 14 (remember, I was already an adult-size 6’4”) I was invited to play on the Westgate town fast-pitch softball team.  Virtually all of the adults on the team smoked, making for easy ‘mooching’ of cigarettes, along with post-game beer consumption. 

Hay bailing work held special times for me.  The money, usually at a penny-a-bail rate, was good and smoking held special pleasure operating in the great out doors.  Lunchtime offerings of a cold beer enhanced this adult-level indulgence!

At no time was I ever admonished by my parents or other adults to not smoke, thus smoking became part of my life throughout my high school years and into college and beyond.

In 1963 when I joined the Peace Corps training experience at the University Minnesota smoking took on an expanded experience….an introduction to pipe smoking.  Even though Grandpa Langrehr’s pipe smoking enamored me, some of my fellow volunteers took it to another level.  Special blends of tobacco and specially crafted pipes created an exotic atmosphere for smoking, leading to my first pipe purchases and its array of accessories.

In 1968 I was drafted into the Army, where pay was low, resources limited and tobacco was subsidized and cheap.  $1.50 bought a carton of cigarettes, and break-time ‘light’em up if ya got im’ directives made smoking a welcome relief from the drudgeries of training.  Never did smoking hold greater appeal!

During my Army Clinical Psychology internship in 1976, one of the requirements was for interns to conduct stop-smoking support groups for military and dependent personnel.  Here I was leading a group to stop smoking and I was secretly smoking on the side lines….cognitive dissonance in the full force, I do say!

I want to fast forward now to 1983.  I’m 40 years old, recently divorced custodial parent of a seven year old son, newly self-employed and scraping by financially as well.  I’m now on a three pack-a-day protocol of smoking, using it as a stress releaser of sorts.  These were tenuous times for me. 

One evening a hand touched my shoulder while sitting in our living room smoking a cigarette.  The hand was that of my seven-year-old son, Jonathan.  He tapped my shoulder and very earnestly told me he did not want me to die!

This was a very powerful wakeup call.  At that very moment I extinguished the lit cigarette in my hand and placed the entire surrounding stockpile into the trash.  More than 30 years later I can now declare I’ve been totally tobacco clean for the duration.  From three-packs a day to none, without a trace of regret or desire!  Thank you, thank you, my beloved son!

A final note: in an effort to reinforce my seceding from smoking efforts I started to contribute the monthly amount I was spending on cigarettes into a savings account for my son’s future college education.  When he left for college in 1994 the account had generated more than $5,000!

This is my story and I’ll stand by its merits!