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Smoking kills. But if you package it right, millions will take their chances.
According to the Federal Trade Commission Report of 2006, the annual marketing expenditures by U.S. tobacco companies was approximately 1.25 billion dollars--in 1970. In 2006, it was 16.7 billion . In 2008, they spent nearly $29 million each day and 52% more than they spent at the time of the 1998 settlement of state lawsuits against the industry, which was supposed to curtail tobacco marketing.
Yeh, I know. An individual has a choice; the tobacco industry does not and can not force anyone to inhale. But they do a masterful job of alluring, enticing, and convincing someone to take that initial drag. And, in time, the addictive substance begins to alter one's sense of choice.
Smoking is marketed to the child/adolescent and adult market as being cool. The "in" crowd. Virginia Slims and others entice girls/women who are assaulted with body-image difficulties. Men are portrayed as manly and rugged if smoking. Or cool ( my James Dean poster would not epitomize the cool factor if he had no cigarette in hand.)
The tobacco companies spend billions to convince us.
I wish the marketing gurus had been with me last week at the visitation as I stood and wept with my friend, now a widow of three days, as she mourned the loss of her 51 y.o. husband who had smoked for a long time. Married only 8 years she had found the love of her life only to lose him and with a mere month's notice as the cancer ravaged his body.
There was nothing cool or manly or rugged about it.
I would think marketing meisters avoid standing in visitation lines.
He was a loner, but likeable. John was a very intelligent homeless man who stayed in one of the local shelters at night, and fended for himself during the day. His yellow-tinted glasses gave color to his weary eyes.
I first met him a year or so ago. Our church operated out of a small storefront and served breakfast to the homeless early each Sunday morning. We would pack 60, sometime 70, homeless men and women into our narrow quarters. John was anxious around crowds. He would arrive late, and linger outside. He seldom asked for a meal, but always asked for coffee. I struck up conversation with him, and it became a near-weekly ritual. I looked forward to seeing him.
He would miss a week or two but always managed to reappear. During this time I left for 3 months to work with the poor in Honduras. Upon returning,I didn't see John for a couple weeks and asked a street person who was a buddy of John's. He told me John had died months ago. I was shocked.
Nobody on our "team" had heard anything. The grapevine of the homeless network was quiet; John was aloof enough that his brothers of the street apparently either didn't know or didn't care.
How does someone die without anyone noticing? How does a man created in imago Dei--the image of God--die and get discarded like a cigarette butt tossed out the window? How can you become so lost, so invisible that no one notices you dying?
I don't know. I do know this: I miss John. John, I wish I had known your health had been significantly deteriorating. Maybe I could have been there with you so you wouldn't have died alone. Maybe some family member broke out of their comfort zone and re-established contact with you and held your hand and uttered comforting words and provided loving presence as you died. Maybe. I hope so.
No one should die alone.
