Smoking — cool, calming and terminal

One of my favorite movie posters is a painting used for the French release of "Casablanca" in 1942.

The poster is predominantly yellow, depicting Humphrey Bogart and Sydney Greenstreet playing chess at Rick's, the nightclub that is the film's primary setting. And on the far right is Ingrid Bergman, in profile, her lovely face looking somewhat melancholy in lavender, contrasting with the yellow background. Also in lavender is a large swirling stream of smoke that rises from the background to dominate the foreground.

It's a gorgeous poster, very dreamlike, romantic and beautiful . . . and, as with most things involving the movies, completely embedded in fantasy.

Smoking can be made to look so glamorous, so relaxing, so appealing on the big screen.

But, of course, the reality is, smoking is just a filthy addicting habit.

I grew up in Southern California with smokers. My parents smoked; my brother smoked.

We had more smog inside the house than out.

I'm still surprised I never took it up.

This was the 1950s and '60s, and I didn't think too much about it in my youth. My mother was a social smoker; she could take it or leave it. But my father was hooked; really hooked.

Whenever he'd try to quit . . . which, as he grew older, became more and more frequent . . . he'd get so grumpy and unhappy that we'd urge him to start smoking again. It was sort of a joke in the family. Sort of.

Eventually, my father did quit, when he was 48. But it was too late. Ten years later, lung cancer killed him.

That was nearly 20 years ago, when my children were young. But they knew well the part that smoking played in their grandfather's death.

So it was especially distressing to me when, some years later, two of my daughters took up smoking as teens. Yikes! Hadn't they learned anything?

Peer pressure, low self-esteem, rebelliousness, whatever. It became a serious source of tension. They said they'd quit, they said they'd try to quit, but they didn't. Or couldn't.

Now these daughters are both adults, parents with young children of their own. And now they'd really like to quit. But it's a struggle.

OK, I'm probably preaching to the choir here. I doubt if any young teens will read this column. And if they do, they'll probably see the gray hair in my photo and decide I'm just another lecturing old guy.

On the other hand, if even one kid hesitates and says no to that first cigarette, it's worth this space.

My parents are both gone now, and occasionally a fragrance brings them to mind. A certain perfume may remind me of my mother getting ready for work. Freshly mowed grass may remind me of my father working in the yard. Fresh-brewed coffee may remind me of waking up as a child, when that aroma filled our home each morning.

But smoke, though I was surrounded by it constantly for 19 years, and periodically afterward, just makes me ill.

I still enjoy those old black-and-white, smoke-filled movies of Hollywood's golden era, but when I see young actors lighting up in modern shows, it makes me cringe.

But even if movie stars won't say no, it would be nice if the kids who worship them did.

Saturday is World No Tobacco Day, for smokers around the world to "unite to break free from their dependence on tobacco" (online at www.wntd.org).

It's as good a day as any to stop.

Or to plan to never start.

E-MAIL: hicks@desnews.com

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