Stop Smoking It Was Making Him Sicker

She describes the disappointing effects of her father’s recidivistic alcoholism on her psyche and family income, stating that “After all he’d put himself through, I couldn’t believe Dad had gone back to the booze… With dad drinking again, and no money coming in…”(123) Walls, in clear concise language, illustrates the destructive nature of alcoholism, and its tendency to cause poverty and lead to the destruction of trust in relationships. The correlation between

Alcoholism does not only affect a person’s physical, mental, and emotional state, but it also changes the lives of people close to the drinker forever. It ruins relationships and trust that took years to build up, and may never be able to be restored. In Jeannette Walls’s memoir, The Glass Castle, she tells the story of her childhood in which her father was an alcoholic. Jeannette’s father, Rex Walls, was brilliant and charismatic when he was sober, but when he drank, he was destructive and dishonest.

I went to my living room to ask my mom a question, to see she wasn’t there. I asked my brother “where’s mom?” and he replied with “shes at the hospital, grandpa got burnt.” I would never have expected “grandpa got burnt” to be as severe as it was. I remember my mom coming home around two in the morning. I got up and out of bed to ask some questions. She said “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. Pack some stuff up, we’re going to Waterloo tomorrow.” So I listened and packed up a bag.

He again establishes his ethos by revealing his first-hand experiences dealing with the effects of alcohol abuse. Additionally, he employs diction through words with strong negative connotations in order to further emphasize his disdain toward his father. For instance, Sanders illustrates how alcohol would transform his father from a capable man into a “pathetic, frightening, deceitful” (12) man. Put in such stark terms, Sanders leaves his readers no choice but to confront the ugly truth behind alcoholism. Sanders’ word choice creates a condescending tone that emphasizes the shame Sanders had felt as a

“My dad enjoyed alcohol; a lot. He never yelled at us, but when my mom was having her ‘episodes’, that was what we called them, he would leave us alone with her. He said he had trouble dealing with her when she was having problems. I think he was cheating on my mom, but I could never prove that and he would never admit to it either.”

As a child, my life had always been hard. “Perhaps it’s better that way!” my pa would slur out whenever I complained. The sour, pungent, and sadly familiar smell of cheap liquor would hang between us. My father had drunk to forget. What did he want to forget? I always wondered. People claimed it was Ma’s

I jumped out of my bed like a missile and looked out the window so fast that I almost hit my head in the window. I watched all the cars that was passing by. My uncle came to my room and asked me “what is happing here?” he looked at my calendar it was Saturday the day that my dad comes back. “Jonny, I have to talk to you” I looked at him and walked on my bed towers him. He sat on my bed and explained to me that my dad had lied to me that he’ll come back because that sound that I heard at night was your dad fighting with your mom for me, she herds that my dad was mad at me just for a slice of bread so my parents divorced. I looked at my uncle’s eyes, my heart almost stopped, tears slide down my face. I was in my room crying for my dad to come back for 2 hours. Nothing was the same without my dad. When I came back home from school, I cried “I’m here dad … oh” I was alone with my uncle. All the paintings that me and dad were on my wall, I used my step stole to take down the pictures and put it in a shoebox. I could not believe that he abandon me…by a

The first time I helped her we walked to the bathroom, and I helped her sit on the toilet. The very first thing she would do is reach for the top drawer of the bathroom sink. I would see her open it up and take out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. My grandma then had me turn on the exhaust fan and sit in there with her while she puffed on a cigarette. I was shocked the first time and told my parents about it because I couldn’t help but wonder, “why would you smoke when you have cancer?!” Then it hit me, she already has cancer, she knows she is old, and she didn’t care. It was her choice. It made sense because she knew she was going to pass and she had talked about it to my family and I. There was no reason to try and stop her from smoking cigarettes every time she went to the bathroom because that was her

The old gentleman would appear at the most unexpected times, yet months would go by, and I could have completely forgotten him and grown up never to see him again except from the cove of childhood memories we for some reason never forget. Nevertheless, there he was; coming out of a back alley as I turned a corner; or crossing a street as I approached from the other side. Once old timer even came into the grassless yard of our shotgun double as I was sitting on the rotten wooden steps waiting for my brother and sisters to return from school, I wasn't old enough yet to attend. This was my station, to sit there and keep an eye on my stroke burden grandfather as he rocked and mumbled his thoughts to no one present. He stepped half way up the walk, and stood there, looking at me and I back at him more out of curiosity then fear. Eventually he reached out his hand as if to make a request or ask a question of me, then as if remembering, lowered his head and turned and walked away. One day I was standing in an abandoned field behind our house. We kids would meet their and think of games to play; mostly kick the ball. I was there tossing the ball up in the air, waiting for the other kids to show up, when I see him coming down the

The car ride was around 3 hours long. It's in the middle of June so it’s beating hot outside. My mother is sweating bullets because, the air conditioning to the driver’s and passenger's doesn’t work. We finally reach grandmother's house. My mother helps me out of the car and we stretch our legs for a second. We walk up to the door; the door was slightly open. My mom pushes it open,”Mom we’re here… Where are you?” my mother says. We look in the kitchen and there is a note on the kitchen table with a bottle of wine and a half drank glass of it. The note

This reaction most likely puts a smoker on edge. It is likewise disgracing — and disgrace doesn't essentially give a motivator to quit smoking. "Particularly on the off chance that you haven't smoked yourself, reveal to some sympathy," exhorts Lando. An option to harping on the negative characteristics of tobacco use is to underscore the general profits of stopping smoking. It's fine to say, "Simply contemplate the amount great you're accomplishing for your body (or your financial balance)." For somebody taking a shot at smoking end, these might be all the more influential motivators. (Madeline Vann, 2014)

My feet dangled below me as I sat on the stepping stool that constituted as my dining room chair. I banged my little fists on the red plastic tablecloth while I impatiently waited for dinner. My mom was still on her way home from work so it had been my grandma who picked me up from pre-school and brought me home to help make dinner. I liked my school because it had a fence that imitated giant crayola crayons and a yellow brick road leading up to the door just like in the Wizard of Oz. The place was magical, but I didn’t mind leaving because I loved spending time with my mom and grandma. It was just the three of us. My mom and I had recently moved back in with my grandma, who I call Memere. I was lucky to have two women taking care of me because

When we were together we were invincible, us against the world. I’d look up to him, not only because he was 6’4, but because he was my grandpa. I have clear memories of him picking me up from school, playing old school reggae music during our adventurous car rides. We’d always sing along to our favorites, sometimes turn the music up so loud the people in the cars next to us could hear it. When I would visit his apartment, the familiar smell of drywall and pennies would fill the air. It was my hideaway, my home away from home. My grandpa collected pennies in water jugs. He would say that one day they’d be worth more than just pennies. I loved it there, not only because he had a freezer filled with many flavors of ice cream to which he would often say to me “you can have all you can eat” but because it was our time to bond. For five years it was my mom, my dad, and my grandpa helping me to grow. Those are my favorite people, my role models. Being around my grandpa brought me such comfort and joy.

I look into my uncle’s hospital room and look at him lying there fast asleep. He looked as light as a feather and as fragile as thin porcelain china. I walk in and his eyes suddenly open and he greets me with shaking open arms and says “Hey Ty!”, I reply “Hey Uncle CC!” and sit in the chair next to his hospital bed and relax for about 20 minutes. I began to say “I remember when we had a huge feast at Grandma’s house for thanksgiving and you had gotten so drunk you knew it was time for you to leave.” “Yeah that was a good time, having all the family together as we did” my uncle says, pausing for a little. “Although I never really left” he says as he’s hanging over his hospital bed, laughing himself into tears. He continues, “The porch had been my bed that night. Your mom was on the way out of the house, when she had found me in a deep sleep on the porch steps of mom’s house.” “Hey Uncle Carl, could I ask you a couple questions about your use of alcohol for my school paper?” I ask as I adjust his pillow and recline his hospital bed to a comfortable incline. My uncle looks at me with his watery eyes and fragile body and says “Yeah of course Ty.”

The sun was bright, the weather was hot, and I was leaving this house. I couldn’t take the stagnant air anymore. It was suffocating me. I couldn’t focus and my mind was vacant of any coherent thoughts. I especially couldn’t handle mom, who was as heated as a summer day. I’m not sure why she was upset, or what made her decide to take her atrocious anger out on me. All I know is that I had to get out. Thankfully, I was able to make dinner plans with my grandfather, Calvin. He’s the most stubborn people I have ever met, which is generally typical of old men. Yet, even though he is old, he’s extremely active and doesn’t look a day over fifty. He has intense blue eyes and wispy white hair that slips out from his ballcap. In the winter,