I guess I quit smoking just in time. The FDA has banned clove cigarettes on our shores. That’s all there is; there ain’t no more.
I used to love smoking cloves and it was all Vicky’s fault, by the way. She had this weird rule about smoking. I couldn’t smoke my cigarettes but I could smoke cloves, which she also liked to smoke, conveniently enough. Of course, once she saw that I was smoking them FAR faster than she was – and, in fact, LOVING them – she became less accepting about it. Still, whenever Tim would come up to visit, we’d get a couple packs of cloves in case Vicky wanted to smoke one… cigarette…
Ah, the days of wine and cloves-es!
Of course, back when I should have smoked cloves, back in high school when they were alternative and hip, I wouldn’t touch them. It was Camel Straights for me and nothing else – is it any wonder I didn’t start jogging again for over twenty years! But I can recall that clove aroma crossing the South Coast Plaza parking lot, seeking me out, saying “Some day! Some day!”
And then, a few years before Vicky and I met, I would hang out with the stage manager for “Dial M” and it just so happened that she smoked cloves. So, we’d sit out after a show and smoke and talk and I would worry that she had other plans as well – after all, I was also going through a divorce… what a mess my life was.
So, when Vicky first said to me, “I like cloves,” all these memories came flooding back. Just as they do now. But, alas, no more.
So, smoke ‘em if you can get ‘em kids. Those tasty clove beauties are all gone. Nothing left but sweet, sweet memories… and the possible carcinoma…