How old am I? Old enough to have flown on planes that had ashtrays in the armrests. Old enough to remember restaurants with smoking sections separated from the nonsmoking section by, essentially, nothing. Old enough to remember when “smoking or non” was a question the restaurant host actually asked you. Old enough that in the year I graduated high school — 1997 — more than a third of high schoolers smoked.
I’m 47 — not ancient, even if I sometimes feel that way — and yet the America I grew up in the 1980s was still so saturated with cigarette smoke that these memories feel like disp...
HALO NEWSLETTER
Join HALO today and unlock this story instantly — It's Free
