So I went over to my folks’ place tonight ’cause I wanted
some advice on a decision I need to make at work. They were actually
quite helpful with that, and I think that I now know which choice is the
best. Afterwards, though, it devolved into their standard catalogue of
everything they dislike about me, which is not all that bad to tell the
truth. They’re even correct about some things—although
despite my flippant attitude, these are actually things I’ve been
thinking of already.
But then it turned from mildly annoying to full-on nasty. My father
started castigating for introducing my kid brother to
smoking—which might be fair were it true. The facts are somewhat
different: he learnt it from his co-workers and I discouraged him from
smoking cigarettes once I found out that he was addicted to
them—discouraged him quite vigorously, to the point of annoying
him quite a bit. I did encourage him to smoke a pipe, in part because I
believe that in moderation it is a pleasant past-time with essentially
no negative side effects and in part because it has been found to be an
excellent way to quit cigarettes. Additionally he was the one who
inspired me to buy my hookah, rather than vice-versa.
My parents are very intelligent people, but in some few ways they are
complete fools. You know how often I smoke? One pipe a week; perhaps
once a month I have a second one. The last cigar I had was at the
beginning of April. If that is a dangerous addiction, I don’t
know what isn’t. Quite simply, there’s nothing hazardous
about four or five pipesful a month and two or three cigars a year. In
their defence, I think they believe that it’s impossible to be a
once-a-week smoker—but my own example disproves that idea (in
college I smoked 4–6 pipes a day, and in my first few years after
graduation I smoked most days of the week).
I fanned the flames by saying that I’ve little respect for
non-smokers, which was rude and upset my father more than I would have
expected. But it’s also true: a non-smoker is like a man who
walks around with his eyes closed, adamant that colour doesn’t
exist; if only he’d open his eyes he’d see a world of beauty
and delight.
What I didn’t say (because I was hot under the collar, and in
no mood to be conciliatory) is that I also have little respect
for smokers (by which term I mean addicts). Addiction is an ugly thing
and a sign of weakness. It’s absurd to be cranky and
short-tempered simply because one hasn’t indulged in some
pleasure; worse, it’s childish.
Speaking of, I guess I’m growing up: a year ago, right now
I’d be smoking a pipe out of spite, but tonight the only aroma in
my condo is the night air drifting in from my balcony. I’m more
sad about the whole business than angry at my parents.