I quit smoking. I can’t believe that I actually did it, but I did and if I can quit smoking then anyone on this planet can. I wasn’t just a smoker, I was a champion smoker. I was a smoker of “Olympian” proportions. Rothman’s King Size made my entire world go round. They completely ruled my life. It was part of my work and it was part of my play. Smoking was everything to me. I used to say in the NTV newsroom that with a pack of Rothman’s, a cup of coffee, a pen, a few sheets of paper and a telephone, I could rule the world.
They were quite different times. In those days you could smoke in the workplace and smoking and being on the phone looked pretty cool to my very cloudy way of thinking. If co-workers didn’t like the smell of smoke or had health concerns, then to Hell with them. A smoker knew his rights back in those days by God! It was all about MY rights and freedom of choice and things like that. It was long before the days when such vague notions as second-hand smoke, cancer, emphysema, and the health of others became an issue. It was the time of those heady days when the paid shills of the tobacco industry like announcer Joel Aldred talked about “personal choice” and “individual rights”. Aldred, who was a broadcaster of some renown, a media spokesman for Rothman’s of Canada, and the executor of the estate of the late John Diefenbaker, was a great smoker. Smoke on.
I stopped smoking because of money. The health of my wife or my sons was NEVER a factor. Smokers are too far selfish for that. My dad died of lung cancer, but I didn’t care about that either. He was a two pack of Camels a day guy, but I didn’t see any lesson to be learned there either. Camels are Camels and Rothmans are Rothmans and in the seriously flawed logic of smokers that means there is NO connection, so the “Grim Reaper” wasn’t coming for me. It was FINANCIAL guilt that made me stop. Cigarettes were gone to nearly $5 a pack and I was smoking a pack and a half a day and more on the weekends. You can tell a smoker because he always has money on him. A smoker, like me, had to know where his next $5 was coming from. There might not be a tin of Carnation or a box of Pampers in the house but the $5 in your pocket was still going to Mr. Rothman. Sure, you went out to work in the morning you had to have cigarettes with you and when you came home at night you made sure you had enough cigarettes to get you through to morning.
When you are a smoker, you also spend a lot of time at the bank machine. One night coming home late from work I was supposed to pick up some dish detergent. When I got to the store, I didn’t have enough money for both the detergent and the Rothmans so, you guessed it, I bought a pack of Rothman’s. No dishes were washed in Casa Furlong that night. Somewhere in the darkness of that evening, I understood the complete absurdity of what I was doing. The next day I went to the doctor and got a prescription for the Nicotine Patch. They were prescription only back then. I didn’t use it right away. That weekend I went to bed early on Friday night. It had been a tough week and after work myself and me missus had had a couple of drinks. I smoked like a tilt, as the expression goes, and dozed off to sleep watching television. When I woke up it was about 4:14 on Saturday morning. I made a cup of tea with lots of sugar and smoked a cigarette. Then I smoked another one and had another cup of tea. I turned on the TV and watched a couple of those odd programs that used to haunt the morning airwaves. Ron Popeil and his “Showtime Rotisserie” was on. Somewhere in there I had another cup of tea and a few more cigarettes. It was 7 a.m. when the rest of the house began to wake up. I put a Nicotine Patch on my arm and went to bed. I never smoked another cigarette. It was the most important day of my life. Every time I see the “Showtime Rotisserie” commercials now I smile and feel good about myself. I can’t belief I did it, but I did. By the way I celebrated by 80th birthday. I haven’t smoked a cigarette in 40 years.
You can contact Jim Furlong at jfurlong@ntv.ca