Brian B Nine months ago I killed a lifelong friend  2017 or 2018

Nine Months: 

It really is unbelievable. Nine months ago I killed a lifelong friend and abandoned his soul to whatever Hell awaits him. Some friends just deserve to die.

I started dipping at a very young age. It was a different time then as I am almost 50 now. Many who read this may not even believe certain aspects of my journey as the world has changed so much since then. 

The day I started using tobacco was a bright warm day in late Spring/early Summer. I don't remember my exact age or the exact year, as that simply isn't the way my memory works anymore...at least not after things happened in the military that affect my ability to recall some memories. It is all there (I think), I just have to take an often long and convoluted path to get to them.

I can remember walking around the baseball field in my hometown that would grow to become a sports complex so wonderful that there is now an NCAA Bowl game played there every year. OK...it is a Div III bowl, but still impressive considering it is only a high school stadium in what is still a small town with no NCAA teams whatsoever. I think. There is a single college there, but my enduring relationship with the town over the last half-century provides no insight as to whether or not they even have a football team.

At the time, it was little more than an open field with short stretches of fencing and some chicken wire stretched out to indicate the boundary for the almost never achieved home run. Kids were free to roam about, unsupervised, and parents enjoyed cheering on their kids without screaming at the officials and coaches and chatted animatedly about things that had nothing to do with how special their kid was and how special they were for all the special things they were doing for their special kid. I know because we kids were often told to go play out of earshot...so we would sneak back under the bleachers and listen anyway. This was a time when parents would tell there kids to go outside and not to come back until dark. The geographic boundaries set for kids closely aligned with the average courage level of a child of his or her age. It was a good system for the most part.

The predators back then were of a different variety. It was not illegal at the time for minors to have tobacco. They could purchase it at the store if they wanted, but it was likely that the clerk would call your Mom as ask if it was OK. She didn't have to ask your Mom's number, she already knew it. Everybody knew everybody's number back then...from memory. We only used phonebooks (Google it) for businesses and government offices. Even if nobody answered, they would still sell it to you.

So...on this day, in my hometown in my beloved VA, the original tobacco state, a man was circulating the area behind the bleachers and around the concession stand handing out free samples of a new brand of smokeless tobacco...to the kids. I asked him what it was and he told me it was like grown-up candy you don't swallow. He said it makes you feel really good too, but he wasn't sure if I was grown up enough to handle it. I told him I certainly was...I had my own paper route. He 'reluctantly' gave me a can and told me with a wink "Don't tell your parents". You see, back then, the tobacco guy would hand it to you in plain view of a cop with no reservations...he just didn't want the folks to find out because Dad would have likely taught him a new way to eat and that same cop would have watched with his only concern being not to let the Dad go so far as to incur actual legal difficulties. That was when the job of the police was to protect and serve within the confines of the Constitution and before it came to be tax collection for the municipalities and whoever finds the most clever loophole to trash your rights every month wins a prize.

Anyway...this moment brought out every ounce of Irish rebelliousness that could be found in an Appalachian pre-teen. I was in for a penny, and in for a pound...and I shared with my friends.

For nearly four decades, I maintained the rebellion. . Many women with sincere interest lost all of it the second they met the third in our relationship. Others hung out long enough to try and 'change me'. I turned away potential life mates because ultimatums were issued and accepted.

I tried to quit in the Army once and dragged an enlisted man across the Charge of Quarters desk for what I presumed was blatant disrespect. My Company Commander ordered me to turn back to dip, handing me a can from his own desk drawer and to not try to quit again until I had left his command or had sufficient leave accrued to execute a quit outside of the influence of other soldiers.

I made many attempts and blamed it on anything...everything when I failed. I have treated some people poorly and mistreated others because of my addiction. I have wasted money, time, opportunity, and human connections because of it.

Am I nostalgic for the days I described earlier in this rant? Yes, I unequivocally am. I miss them a lot. I do wish my father had caught that man giving me the tobacco that day, though. Sgt Murphy would have had a curious case of 'Didn't see nothing'. The other kids would have talked about the spectacle for years in school, elevating me considerably by association. The hawker would have spent some quality time reflecting on his career decisions, while relearning how to eat. There is no telling how many people's lives that I personally have had a negative impact upon, through my unpaid endorsement and proselytization, would have remained blissfully unaffected as a result. How many impressionable young Infantry soldiers chose to model their behavior after mine and used tobacco as a result? How many have they influenced? I have referred to tobacco ad nauseum as poison. The truth of is, it's more like a parasite that poisons the host while feeding off its energy.

It is fitting that the period that has past at the time of this reflection is nine months: the gestation period for a human child. I feel almost reborn, renewed and certainly reinvigorated. In a way, you are all my mothers. You have carried me these nine months and nourished my spirit. I cannot stress enough how important this community has been to my continued efforts in fighting this addiction. I salute each of you.