The Walrus/Flickr/iStockI would hop on my bike and ride to a nearby store to buy my mom’s cigarettes. I was around ten then. My mom knew the store owner and had made this standing arrangement for when she couldn’t make it over. I also ran errands for things like bread and milk, but I barely remember those trips. Cigarettes were different. I still remember my mom’s brand—large king-sized du Maurier—and the deep-red look of those packs. I recall, too, the sense of responsibility I felt ferrying those cigarettes home, likely because most of the adults in my extended working-class family...…The Walrus/Flickr/iStockI would hop on my bike and ride to a nearby store to buy my mom’s cigarettes. I was around ten then. My mom knew the store owner and had made this standing arrangement for when she couldn’t make it over. I also ran errands for things like bread and milk, but I barely remember those trips. Cigarettes were different. I still remember my mom’s brand—large king-sized du Maurier—and the deep-red look of those packs. I recall, too, the sense of responsibility I felt ferrying those cigarettes home, likely because most of the adults in my extended working-class family...WW…