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In the 50s when I started smoking, there was a cigarette machine in the local pool hall that you had to put two dimes in, pull the knob and out comes a pack of butts with three pennies change inside the outer wrapper.

Also, nobody cared how old you were as long as you could reach the coin slot.

Right, as an 8-year-old I regularly went to the grocery store and bought cigarette packs for my dad. Store didn't care. Dad smoked 2 packs a day. I used to be shocked at price stories my dad told me about his youth, about how far a nickel stretched. What's shocking is prices climbed far faster and much higher in my generation over the last 50 years than in his previous 50. And it will get worse now for my children and grandchildren.

I was working for 50¢ an hour in the cotton fields in the 50s, my dad (born 1916) told me that when he first married my mom, he was 20 years old and worked in a cotton gin for 50¢ per day and was very happy to have the job, even at that, the job was seasonal and there was no unemployment. I've since heard others say that they worked for even less per day. These were minimum 10 hour days.

He also hunted at night when I was a kid and occasionally would take me with him, spot lighting was illegal even back then but he shot what he could find to help feed his family. I can still smell that old carbide light.