Dear Tobacco,
People get really good at finding ways to make their relationship with you more ritualistic & personal.
Derick was my Mom's brother who passed away earlier this year of a heart attack, likely a shriveled liver, tired lungs, and loneliness. His wife, Nicola, preceded his death a few years ago as a result of a swift encounter with pancreatic cancer. They are, as a result of Derick's death, the first 'couple' to both have died in our family other than his parents having died many years earlier - as well as the first couple that both took their addiction to you with them to the grave.
Derick was successful well before many of his siblings. He took an opportunity to sell his business to retire early and travel the land with Nicola. They became nomadic - investing in fancy 5th Wheel campers, staying in small towns RV parks for months, and generally just seeing everything they could together and enjoying life.
Even before I could judge right from wrong I remember my sister and I being completely fascinated by the process those two had for rolling their own cigarettes. Nicola had crafted a little assembly line for portioning, dividing, stuffing, packing, and packaging their smokes. She even hand-made the little board & gizmo that handled all the tobacco so that she could prep and roll about 20 at a time... a work of genius, really.
You helped open up her imagination so that she could maximize her time spent on/with you. If only she had as much confidence in herself as you did. Even Derick was as meticulous with you as she was - it was like the first thing they had in common. Maybe you were the first thing they had in common.
Maybe you're like the third angel sitting on our shoulders. The one that says "Hey, forget those Goog & Evil pussies, I'm where it's at!". You're sort of in your own little third dimension, hovering above the ability to reason, to rationalize right and wrong, pulling on the reigns that control either usual angel.
My sister and I were somehow given permission to assist with the rolling ritual. So we learned how much to pinch and where to sprinkle you, and then where to place the tubes so that nothing went awry. So that the brand name was facing just right. Lastly we got to finalize the process of the gizmo by sliding it together like an old credit card machine with a usually-smooth cha-lunk.
I didn't get to go to their funerals. I wouldn't have asked about that contraption either, but I wonder where it ended up. Burned, hopefully.
How did it feel to get them, too?
People get really good at finding ways to make their relationship with you more ritualistic & personal.
Derick was my Mom's brother who passed away earlier this year of a heart attack, likely a shriveled liver, tired lungs, and loneliness. His wife, Nicola, preceded his death a few years ago as a result of a swift encounter with pancreatic cancer. They are, as a result of Derick's death, the first 'couple' to both have died in our family other than his parents having died many years earlier - as well as the first couple that both took their addiction to you with them to the grave.
Derick was successful well before many of his siblings. He took an opportunity to sell his business to retire early and travel the land with Nicola. They became nomadic - investing in fancy 5th Wheel campers, staying in small towns RV parks for months, and generally just seeing everything they could together and enjoying life.
Even before I could judge right from wrong I remember my sister and I being completely fascinated by the process those two had for rolling their own cigarettes. Nicola had crafted a little assembly line for portioning, dividing, stuffing, packing, and packaging their smokes. She even hand-made the little board & gizmo that handled all the tobacco so that she could prep and roll about 20 at a time... a work of genius, really.
You helped open up her imagination so that she could maximize her time spent on/with you. If only she had as much confidence in herself as you did. Even Derick was as meticulous with you as she was - it was like the first thing they had in common. Maybe you were the first thing they had in common.
Maybe you're like the third angel sitting on our shoulders. The one that says "Hey, forget those Goog & Evil pussies, I'm where it's at!". You're sort of in your own little third dimension, hovering above the ability to reason, to rationalize right and wrong, pulling on the reigns that control either usual angel.
My sister and I were somehow given permission to assist with the rolling ritual. So we learned how much to pinch and where to sprinkle you, and then where to place the tubes so that nothing went awry. So that the brand name was facing just right. Lastly we got to finalize the process of the gizmo by sliding it together like an old credit card machine with a usually-smooth cha-lunk.
I didn't get to go to their funerals. I wouldn't have asked about that contraption either, but I wonder where it ended up. Burned, hopefully.
How did it feel to get them, too?
posted by Rea at
11:15 a.m.
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