Puff Puff

“….if you smoke yourself to death
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette”

Lyrics from Smoke Smoke Smoke that Cigarette by Merle Travis 1947

Most days I park a few blocks away from work and walk the rest of the way. Benefits include extra exercise, a chance to gather my thoughts and unwind a bit on my way out.  One of the routes takes me past a small Jewish cemetery. Have taken this route so many times, feel I know the people buried around the perimeter. Know their names and enjoy imagining their lives in whatever era they lived.  Observe some graves are frequently visited by the small stones placed on top of the tombstones (an interesting superstition).  There is a significantly greater number of burial dates clustered around 1918 serving as a daily reminder of the seriousness of the great flu epidemic. http://pulltight.blogspot.com/2006/02/flu.html


The facility where I work became tobacco free last year. Many of my smoking colleagues quickly realized the cemetery is not part of our facility. The grave yard patrons have yet to make their place of rest tobacco free. So around break time, you will see a line of folks standing by or sitting on the stone fence surrounding the cemetery puffing away.  In my own quirky mind I see them in the queue for next entry into the cemetery.

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