The man’s dad had been a three-pack-a-day
Chesterfield smoker who had a heart attack

when he was 55 and died when he was 56.
One day, after the man had gotten home

from high school when he was a teen, he
encountered his dad sitting in the living

room looking out the big, bay window, in-
haling deeply and obviously appreciatively

on but another of his unfiltered, chain-of-
love sticks. It was after one of those long,

deliriously deep draws, that he exhaled
seemingly forever and then said, “Don’t

ever take up smoking, my dear son. It is
a low-down, filthy habit.”