Marguerite Corvini’s Tobacco Story
I watched my father struggle to quit throughout my childhood. He used to smoke in our Volvo, which had a white interior. When you pulled the sun visor down, you could see a distinct difference between the “naked” roof and the part under the visor. He died of lung cancer at the age of 61. He was too young and I miss him every day. I’m convinced he would’ve lived longer, come to my wedding, met his son-in-law, kissed his grandchildren, and had a cleaner car had he not smoked.