Bob,

Dad also had a little caligraphy sign on the back door (the door everyone went in and out since the front door was on the deck over the beach) that said something about not smoking because of humans and other living things in the house.

Daylia, that reference to "Indian Weed" was made by the colonial composer of the song. Said colonist probably also thought of Indians as weeds. Anyway, it's a very old song, and I know there's at least one recording of it, either Sandburg or McCurdy. I think it's on an Ed McCurdy album, possibly Blood Booze and Bones or Sin Songs, Pro and Con. I can't find my tapes of any of those here right now, so this is strictly off the top of my head, but maybe it rings a bell?

And you haven't yet listed the bane of my young life: my mother smoked Raleigh cigarettes. The fights we had about her smoking were frequent and we never did get through to her. She finally quit smoking cold turkey when she was diagnosed with Buerger's Disease and they did emergency surgery to put dacron arteries from her abdomen into both legs.

Dad had a story, about when I was only a few months old and they were budgeting his salary so closely, and the day or two before payday they were walking down the street with under $2 left for the month, debating about buying milk or bread, and mom discovered she was out of cigarettes. She turned and went back for the smokes, paying no attention to his protests. There went the family food budget. And you can see the roots of the frustration that all of us had around smokers, after living with her! Mom was so smart, was great in so many ways, but talk about blind to what she was doing and what people thought when it came to smoking.

SRS