When I was a kid, my sister and I really hated it that both our parents were smoking. Like a pack a day each! In the house, in the car, everywhere. These were the times when there weren’t any laws yet about smoking in restaurants or the office.
Going on vacation with the car was a nightmare because I didn’t support the long hours in the car with no fresh air. At least once on such a travel I would get sick. Stop and throw up …
At the age of sixteen or so I started complaining about their habit every day. They didn’t like that really. I was still considered a kid and it was not up to me to lecture them or set the rules in the house.
Then one day I spent an afternoon in my room drawing. I had seen some pictures of a funeral and came up with an idea. I drew a coffin at the altar with four big candle holders around it. They weren’t holding candles though but huge cigarette butts. It looked a bit sinister, as I meant it to be, and then I taped the drawing outside my bedroom door.
I stopped complaining and waited. I knew they would see my drawing a couple times each day. And it worked. They were a bit shocked I guess but it made them think. And they realized it was important to me.
I am grateful they stopped smoking. My father is 80 now and pretty fit. He had a bad cough 30 years ago. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t quit back then.