Smoking

When I was growing up Madison Street was paved to a spot about two blocks west of our house. There it turned to gravel. That was the edge of town and beyond there were farmhouses and countryside. The gravel road led down a long hill and crossed a bridge over Saunders Branch. Saunders Branch is a small stream that runs from the north edge of town. On it’s way to Saunders Park and then to Big Creek, it fills and overflows Coles Pond. The creek, all along its path, was a big attraction to young boys.

I wandered down to that creek and we played war and cowboys in that area many times. We floated boats down the stream and built dams with the rocks in the creek bed. I probably fell in that stream a hundred times. Under normal conditions it was only a few inches deep. After a big rainstorm it could be a raging disaster. I saw the water raise over the road at the bridge many times. A boy in that water would be dead. I knew it and was terrified by the thought and stayed away when it was like that.

So when some of the boys stole cigarettes from their parents and said they were going to smoke them under the Madison Street bridge I knew exactly where they were talking about. Most of these guys were people I didn’t play with often. My cousin Terry was part of the group and Billy Jackson decided to join in for this adventure. Billy had already stolen a smoke or two from his parents and he thought he could give some advice.

I went along, too, although I was not tremendously interested in it. After school we made our way down Madison, over the hill and down to the bridge. There we left the road and went down on the sand and gravel under the bridge. It was a big concrete bridge with walls about two feet high on the sides. It was dark and damp under the bridge. You couldn’t stand fully upright without hitting your head on the bottom of the bridge. It was usually wet and slimy.

When we got there, one of the boys, Mike, dug down into his pocket and pulled out a half crinkled package of cigarettes. The pack was about half full. He pulled out a cigarette that was bent and smashed. Tom pulled out some big stick matches and looked around for a stone to scratch it on. The stones in the creek bed were too damp but he found one on the bank that looked dry and he tried to strike the match on it. The first match broke before it would light. Matches were not quite as reliable then as they are now. The second match burst into yellow flame and Tom extended his arm toward Mike.

Mike drew the cigarette to his mouth and stuck the other end in the flame. Mike puffed and the air filled with a cloud of smoke. Next the cigarette was passed from boy to boy. Each of us tried to look as natural as possible when our turn came. We didn’t really know what we were doing. It must have dawned on Gary how ridiculous we looked and he started laughing hysterically and pointing at each kid as he tried to smoke. That annoyed the more seasoned among the group.

Mike stopped sharing his cigarette. When it was gone he lit up another and smoked it all by himself. Then he gave one to Tom who didn’t share his either. The rest of us lost interest and wandered off to find something more interesting to do. Only a small group stayed behind. That group was punished about a week later when the principal got wind of what had occurred. Those of us who had wandered off were somehow not implicated.