You Should Smoke, You’re Too Green to Burn
“You should smoke, you’re too green to burn” was one of my father Carl Beck’s favorite sayings when he was meaning that someone was too young to do something. But for real about smoking, he smoked a cigar once or twice. Someone gave him a cigar at the birth of someone’s child. He said a cigar made him sick. He never used any other tobacco products that I knew of.
I had two great-aunts who smoked. One great-aunt was in the hospital when smoking was permitted. A doctor walked in while they were smoking. One had breathing problems and was warned not to smoke. One smoked cigarettes and the other a corncob pipe. The visiting great-aunt grabbed and held both the pipe and the cigarette, saying later, “I was blessed if I was gonna let him know which one I was smoking.”
I believe that three of my uncles smoked cigarettes. My Uncle Charles smoked unfiltered Lucky Strikes and coughed like crazy. My Uncle Fred smoked unfiltered Camels. He too had a deep, moist cough. I believe I saw my Uncle Nicky smoking, but I can’t remember for sure. I never saw the packaging, but I remember seeing a cigarette between his fingers on occasion.
My Grandfather Ray Miner chewed tobacco. He was a coal miner. Chewing tobacco reminded them not to swallow the coal dust and to spit it out. His brand was the paper pouch Cutty Pipe. It was the cheapest tobacco at the time and Granddad was raising a large family. He would share with his horses saying, “The tobacco kills their worms.” He used to sit in his recliner chair with his “spit can” at his side, continuing to chewing tobacco until he died.
My Uncle Francis was a miner too. I’m sure he chewed tobacco, but he also smoked a pipe. I don’t know the brand he used.
My Uncle Dale liked his tobacco in almost any form. His chewing tobacco was Red Man. He also smoked cigars. Not the long pale tan colored zeppelin shaped ones, but stubby black ones by the name of Renzi Cigars. They were only about three inches long, black, and gnarled. Dale swore that the cigars were made from the sweepings from the floor of the factory. I believe the factory was on the Westside of Connellsville, Pennsylvania. Dale always had a chew in or the stub of a Renzi cigar in his mouth.
I was never a smoker, but when I was in the U. S. Navy a friend smoked a pipe. When he would drive to a tobacco shop, I was always glad to ride with him. The aromas of the many tobaccos filled the store. He was glad to have someone along to “push-start” his Volkswagen if needed.