I remember D.A.R.E (Drug Awareness Resistance Education) from elementary school like it was yesterday. Drugs were bad. Anyone who tried to pressure you into drugs was not really your friend. If anyone offers you drugs, just say ‘no’.
I knew I would never do drugs. None of my friends were interested in them either. Only bad kids would even think of doing drugs.
My friends and I found lots of fun things to do with our time.
My best friend and I started working on a “club house” in my parents’ backyard. We used the shed that was on the property, which my parents didn’t use for anything. We worked summers mowing lawns, so that we could save up money for projects.
We started by buying a “bug bomb”, because the thing was filled with all kinds of spiders, bees, hornets, and tons of other gross crawly creatures.
Nobody wanted to even go in there with all the critters, let alone turn it into a club-house.
The thing filled up with a poisonous fog, which killed all the bugs. We had to stay out for days after that, until the fog had completely cleared.
We spent weeks cleaning the place up and getting rid of all the dead bugs.
Next, we added some old couches that my parents didn’t need.
After that, we installed windows.
We build a ladder up into the rafters, and used plywood to turn the attic into a second floor.
We added carpet.
We convinced my parents to hire an electrician to install a light fixture and an outlet.
Now we had electricity!
We used extension cords and a power strip to bring the electricity into the upper floor, and turned it into a really cool ‘secret’ hideout.
After three summers of working together on the project, we had built a pretty awesome club-house!
One year, my friend moved away. His mom had gotten a job in another state. I was very sad.
After a year or so, my parents paid for a trip so that I could go visit my friend. I was really excited. I hadn’t seen him in forever. We had been really close.
My first night that I was there was a lot of fun. We walked around and talked, reminiscing about old times and the fun we had building our club-house.
The second day that we were there, he offered me a cigarette.
I was in shock.
We were in fifth grade! What is he doing smoking a cigarette?! I thought.
“NO!” I replied.
We sat there pretty much in silence, as he continued to smoke his cigarette.
I thought we all new cigarettes were bad, I thought. My friend knew this. Why was he smoking?
I tried to reason with him, and explain all of the things we had been taught by D.A.R.E. Smoking was bad. Whoever was trying to pressure you into smoking wasn’t your friend.
"You don’t understand" he said.
Nothing I said was working. He was convinced that he was being cool.
He offered me a cigarette again.
I again, said no.
“I don’t want to peer pressure you” he said.
“You kind of are” I replied.
We fought about this many times over the reminder of the trip. The rest of the trip wasn’t very fun.
I never started to smoke, but he never decided to quit either.
The trip ended, and I went home. Years went by, and I didn’t really speak to my old friend anymore.
I made new friends.
A new neighbor moved in across the street.
He was a ‘Christian’.
I was a Christian too, but according to him I was not 'saved'.
I had not accepted Jesus into my heart as my lord and savior. I was not going to heaven.
After spending a lot of time with my new friend, I decided to become ‘saved’. I accepted Jesus into my heart, and became a 'true' Christian.
I spent a lot of time convincing others to become one as well.
The two of us were in Boy Scouts together.
We spent a lot of time together.
I looked up to him a lot.
One day, we were on a camping trip and he started wandering off with someone.
I quickly rushed up to him, and started to tag along.
All of a sudden, I sensed he did not want me there.
I didn’t understand. We were good friends; why wouldn’t he want me to come along?
Finally, I got it out of him – he and the other person were going into the woods to smoke.
I was mildly in shock, but I looked up to him so much that it didn't really matter.
He was my friend, I thought. I don't want to be left out. I don't want to lose another friend.
“You don’t want to come with.” he said.
“Yes I do.” I replied.
And I went with them into the woods.
That camping trip was the first time I smoked a cigarette.
Little did I know at the time, but that first cigarette I had was just the beginning.