新视野大学英语第二册读写教程unit5.pptVIP

* Unit 5: Section A Weeping for my Smoking Daughter Intensive Study Weeping for My Smoking Daughter 1 My daughter smokes. While she is doing her homework, her feet on the bench in front of her and her calculator clicking out answers to her geometry problems, I am looking at the half-empty package of Camels tossed carelessly close at hand. I pick them up, take them into the kitchen, where the light is better, and study them – they’re filtered, for which I am grateful. My heart feels terrible. I want to weep. In fact, I do weep a little, standing there by the stove holding one of the instruments, so white, so precisely rolled, that could cause my daughter’s death. When she smoked Marlboros and Players I hardened myself against feeling so bad; nobody I knew ever smoked these brands. Intensive Study 2 She doesn’t know this, but it was Camels that my father, her grandfather smoked. But before he smoked cigarettes made by manufacturers – when he was very young and very poor, with glowing eyes – he smoked Prince Albert tobacco in cigarettes he rolled himself. I remember the bright-red tobacco tin, with a picture of Queen Victoria’s partner, Prince Albert, dressed in a black dress coat and carrying a cane. Intensive Study 3 By the late forties and early fifties no one rolled his own any more (and few women smoked) in my hometown of Eatonton, Georgia. The tobacco industry, coupled with Hollywood movies in which both male and female heroes smoked like chimneys, completely won over people like my father, who were hopelessly hooked by cigarettes. He never looked as fashionable as Prince Albert, though; he continued to look like a poor, overweight, hardworking colored man with too large a family, black, with a very white cigarette stuck in his mouth. Intensive Study 4 I do not remember when he started to cough. Perhaps it was unnoticeable at first, a little coughing in the morning as he lit his first cigarette upon getting out of bed. By the time I was