Back about the time I was preparing to make my world debut, Tex Williams was singing “Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette).” Williams co-wrote the song along with Merle Travis and it became a big radio hit.

While the lyrics comically grumbled about the hold that cigarettes had on one’s life, smoking was still a popular practice in the late 1940s. My father and many of my uncles smoked cigarettes when I was a kid. With four young sons looking up to him, however, Dad quit smoking cold turkey in 1959.

By the time I became a teenager, smoking had become verboten in my family. Nevertheless, I tried smoking cigarettes. Emphasis on “tried.”

A two-year younger friend had already acquired the habit and on our way to a basketball game in my father’s car he offered me a smoke. Knowing Dad would be driving the car to church the next morning, I cracked the window for ventilation. Then I lit up and thought I was really cool until a gust of wind from the slightly open window blew the glowing ash onto my brand-new winter coat.

I whisked away the ash but when I got to the game and in full light I could see that the glowing ash had burned a hole in the coat.

The next day I explained the hole to my mother by telling her that after the game some guys were throwing around lit cigarettes and one of them landed on my coat. Years later when I told Mom the truth she smiled weakly and said, “I knew you were lying.” Even as an adult I felt ashamed.

Meanwhile, the two oldest of my younger brothers did their smoking under a railroad trestle near our town. A cousin was spending a few days with us one summer and when he and the brothers came home from some time outdoors, each of them was sick… “green around the gills” sick.

The two brothers had afternoon newspaper routes and our compassionate mother directed me to deliver their routes. Those two routes encompassed the entirety of our small town.

When I returned I learned the reason for my brothers’ and cousin’s nausea — they had been smoking under the railroad trestle. I was miffed.

Unable to handle cigarette smoke and still wanting to be cool I tried smoking a pipe but, darn, I couldn’t keep the thing lit. Relighting a pipe every few minutes took away all the cool.

Meanwhile, several of my radio station co-workers smoked cigarettes and the confines of the control room made everyone ­– whether they smoked or not — inhale cigarette smoke.

It was a great relief when my employer banned smoking in the office and soon enough smoking was outlawed in many public spaces.

Two years ago it was estimated that 14 percent (34.1 million) of U.S. adults were current cigarette smokers. It was reported in 1954 that 45 percent of Americans smoked and the proportion that continued to do so was about 40 percent through the early 1970s.

Most households and virtually all business places no longer provide ash trays or allow smoking these days. I frequently see a neighbor standing outside his garage puffing away, even in the colder weather. I assume he is not allowed to smoke inside their home.

Looking back over the years I’m happy I couldn’t handle cigarettes and that my pipe wouldn’t stay lit. Beyond the health reasons for not smoking, the price of cigarettes has skyrocketed.

When I was 16 years old and trying to smoke, one could purchase a pack of cigarettes for about 25-30 cents. At last report the average price of a pack of cigarettes in Iowa is $5.83. Go north and you’ll pay an average of $8.40 per pack in Minnesota. To the south, the average price of a pack of cigarettes is $4.38; the lowest average price in the U.S.

Beyond health concerns, the price of cigarettes is undoubtedly a major reason for the decline in the number of smokers — from 45 percent of Americans in 1954 down to 14 percent today.

One thing is sure: as 20th century author Fletcher Knebel said, “Smoking is the leading cause of statistics.”