Shuggie Bain

I just finished a book.

Yes, I am doing my annual reading challenge on “Goodreads” but wised up a bit. No longer will I sign up for “100” books to be read by the year end. Like I did in 2019. Way too much pressure. Although, I did, in fact, meet that challenge! Since then I’ve lowered the bar. Real low.

When I was a little girl a book could transport me to another world. My world was perfectly fine but it was mine. And tiny. To get lost in a book to learn about other places and things was truly a wondrous journey. I never understood why everyone wouldn’t want that very same experience.

The same applies to me as an adult. My world is still quite small. Comparatively speaking. So I gobble up the words of authors from everywhere else. And I do not ever shy away from stark reality in my choices.

My 31st book of 2023 was Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart.

It strikes an Angela’s Ashes’ chord. Seems like everyone read that book and remembers it being riveting, tragic, heart-breaking, etc. An experience we personally never could have known. Details from the story might not be recalled decades later but the takeaway still remains indelible.

Douglas Stuart’s descriptive writing leaves a person fuller. Hopefully, their heart and mind. Not happy. Very important distinction. Fuller.

The story is set in Scotland and told in the language of the time. Today I told a Scottish friend, Gillian, that her translation skills sure would have come in handy. But the meaning of most phrases and slang can be parsed from context. It takes place during the 1980s in post-industrial Glasgow.

You visualize what the area looks like after collieries have been shut down, men without the ability to care for their families and the resulting ripples of poverty. The author’s writing paints such vivid landscapes that I could envision myself standing on the edge of town amidst the defunct mining community. To understand the lengths a person would go to feed their children or keep them warm. And the lengths a person wouldn’t go to feed their children due to addiction. It’s gray, bleak and despairing. It’s also filled with the utter love and devotion of a child for his mother.

The story weaves the abject poverty and addiction with threads of racism, religious bias and homophobia. None of this should have anyone hanging their mouth in surprise. It’s all around us and not a new thing.

What’s new is that it’s told in a different light. A snapshot in time about a place many of us do not know. This book helps us connect many dots beginning with economy. It also allows us to view the depth of addiction and love in a newfound way.

Frank McCourt, the author of Angela’s Ashes, believed that his students should, “Write what you know. Use words you know.”

Douglas Stuart did exactly that. And then he shared his heart-breaking story with us.

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1000 Hours

Mark Twain once said, “Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I’ve done it thousands of times.”

Yesterday I received a notification on my phone. From an app I’ve installed.

“Congratulations! 1000 Hours Smoke Free.”

The app “Smoke Free” isn’t responsible for me quitting. But it does reinforce that I made the right decision and I think it prevents me from sliding back into the habit. It charts how much time spent not smoking, money saved, physical changes, goals, cravings, triggers, etc.

All positives.

Quitting a decades old habit is not easy. Even if a person smoked one cigarette a day it’s still a habit. And kicking it can be difficult.

My husband told me he was quitting and I said, “I’ll stop also.”

I was just being a supportive friend to him. He didn’t ask me to quit.

I figured, “Why not? Let’s see how it goes. Maybe we will last the day.”

And we stopped.

Times have certainly changed when it comes to smoking.

Used to be everyone smoked. Everywhere!

At the kitchen table. In the bedroom. Watching television.

I remember men and women lighting up the second Mass was finished. The teacher’s lunch room in the parochial school I attended allowed smoking. When I got my first office with a door at the phone company I smoked while I worked. As did my friends who came and sat with me. At my high school lots of kids smoked on the property.  Alongside the teachers who were also smoking.

People smoked in cars, busses and trains.

I remember smoking on a plane to Ireland in 1983. Looking back I can’t imagine how the non-smokers two seats down felt.

That’s how different things were.

When the tides of change swept in it was sort of funny. You’d go into a restaurant and they’d ask, “Smoking or non-smoking?” If you chose non-smoking you were seated directly across the aisle from the smoking section.

It took years for the U.S. to create a non-smoking environment. But they did. Office workers are clustered so many feet from the entrance to their building. Airplanes have messages all over them. Campuses are smoke free. Even college campuses. Young kids are taught about the dangers of smoking at school.

My friend Mary Ann once said that smoking in some places would be akin to blowing your nose on a curtain in a restaurant. It really is that frowned upon.

I remember once having a cigarette after dining in a KL restaurant last year. You know the deal. Huddled up against the building hoping you don’t see anyone you know. Like I was smoking dope or something.

In the distance I saw one of my daughter’s teachers. I panicked and dropped it. Like I was smoking dope or something.

My daughter said, “Mom. Own it.”

I guess that’s the thing. I didn’t really own it. Because of society and its stance on smoking. I was embarrassed by it. But that did not prevent me from doing it.

I did not smoke in my car. Or in the house. But I still did it.

Even though it was a legal activity for someone my age it was verboten at just about every place I frequented.

Today I am smoke free. I do not consider myself a non-smoker yet. Maybe I feel that I  need more time to earn that moniker.

Not smoking is absolutely freeing.

I did not have to rush outside in freezing cold Boston once I got off the plane.

I did not have to go into the “smoking room” at the international airport. Which is the grossest place on earth. I felt that way even when I smoked. But I still entered.

I do not have to leave the dinner table when finished and go grab a quick cigarette.

You get the drift. It was inconvenient.

Just have to be conscious of “triggers.”

So I guess my message in this posting today is this. If you smoke and want to quit I’m here to tell you it is doable. I’m doing it.

It can be hard. We all know there are people who have/had scary health issues and they continue to smoke. It’s a terrible addiction. I know. I did it for nearly forty years. That’s a long time.

I also know loads of folks who were heavy, heavy smokers and are now happily smoke free.

It’s totally doable. And only positives will come out of the decision to quit. I promise.

One month, thirteen days and one hour……..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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