It wasn?t always like that. I met Ellie in 1983. We were working for the Department of Agriculture. She was a grizzled veteran. I was a new kid, straight out of college. I was precocious, blustery, and full of ideas and passions. In short, I was a challenge to deal with. Still, Ellie took me under her wing. She helped nurture my beliefs, encouraged me to stand for what I believe in as long as it was moral, ethical and legal. She always managed to nudge me toward the pragmatic side of things. Philosophies were evolving good and well, she felt. But ideas in a vacuum were never great. The measure of an idea, then, was what it enabled you to accomplish. She gently implored me to contend my passions with the reality of a situation, with common sense. She helped me hone my writing skills, introduced me to people, and kept me focused. What she was trying to tell me, often with a cigarette dangling from her mouth, was that discipline was inextricably linked to survival.
So why didn?t she have the discipline to stop smoking? I?m upset with her for poisoning her body?I?m upset because I loved her.
I have a friend who is going through the same thing. His father recently had a stroke. He smoked a pack of cigarettes a day for forty years. The doctor told him this had to end. For a while it did. But slowly he began to smoke again. His family implored him to stop. It did not matter. Every morning he would sit at the dining room table, a cigarette in his trembling hands, puffing away. His family worries that he may relapse. But he does not stop.