I began to smoke when I was in high school. My parents didn't care much. They both smoked, and my older brother did, too. In school, the teachers talked against smoking, but the cigarette advertisements were so exciting. The men in the ads were so good-looking and so successful, and the women were well, they were beautiful and sophisticated. I read a book called how to stop smoking. The writer said that smoking wastes time, and that cigarettes cost a lot of money. Ten years later, everyone began to hear about the negative effects of cigarette smoke: lung disease, cancer, and heart problems. After that, there was a health warning on every pack of cigarettes. Then two events made me think of giving up smoking. First, I started to cough. I thought it was just a cold, but it didn't get better. Second, my brother got lung cancer. He got sicker and sicker. My brother and I used to smoke cigarettes together over twenty years, and we smoked our last cigarettes together the day before he died. I sat with him in his hospital room, and I decided to quit. "NO more cigarettes, ever." I said to myself. However, it was very hard to stop. I tried several times to quit on my own--without success. Finally, I ran out of excuses--I might say my excuses went up in smoke. I joined the " Stop Smoking" program at the local hospital, which also ended up in failure.