Post by cottonpicker on Aug 29, 2011 16:19:13 GMT -5
MY LAST “CHAW”
Larry D. Davis
It was a typical boiling hot August Sunday afternoon during my 15th year on
earth and the red liquid in the “Carter Cotton Gin “ thermometer on the side of grandma’s
porch had once again been driven above the 100 degree mark for the “umpteenth” time.
As was customary for a Sunday, the family had gathered for one of grandma’s famous (to
us) chicken dinners. We called the noontime meal “dinner” since in those days supper
was considered the last and lighter meal of the day. After the big meal we boy cousins
sought refuge from the stifling heat under the cooling shade of a giant cottonwood tree
and the chance to catch a breeze in the side yard. Shade there was, breeze there was not
and soon boredom, typical of a lazy summer day, set in. Seeking a diversion, we boys
approached Uncle Charley, grandma’s youngest brother, whom we could always depend
on for a secret “chaw of tobacco” as he called it. His favorite and only brand was
“Beech-Nut” in the familiar red and white striped pouch he always kept in his striped
overall pocket. We knew and trusted him as and he loved us kids since his only daughter
had died at an early age many years earlier. I now realize that our parents knew of his
generosity to us but pretended to not notice his indiscretion with the hope that we would
eventually be cured of our curiosity with chewing tobacco; thus solving the problem once
and for all. Uncle Charley always obliged when called upon and freely passed around his
tobacco pouch. Each of us, in turn, would imitate him and place a big ol’ wad in our
cheek then slowly chew and begin to spit as the “juices” started flowing. Actually, I
remember that it had a pleasantly sweet taste but I was still an amateur although I had
tried it several times in the past and always during family gatherings such as this.
However, this time, feeling particularly grown-up and bold, I accidentally swallowed too
much of the “ambeer” as he called it and soon I began to feel the ill effects of nicotine
poisoning. I began feeling “woozie” as Mother described it and, being extremely dizzy, I
immediately sat down on the crumpled top of a sagging hogwire fence surrounding the
side yard while great beads of sweat popped out all over my face in spite of the cooling
cottonwood canopy above. Suddenly, the world as I knew it was transformed into a
panorama of distorted surreal figures and my head started pounding from a near-blinding
headache which I felt certain would permanently damage my vision. Mulberry bushes
around the yard began swirling around me like visions from “Alice In Wonderland” and
the once familiar voices of my cousins became distorted and seemed to come from far
away as if they were speaking to me thru a long cardboard tube. I felt that death was
imminent and, at this point, not totally without merit. In an attempt to rid itself of the
offending poison, my stomach revolted with a violent case of the “dry heaves” but
nothing came out except warm water--- I was sick as a dog!! These sensations went on
for an eternity so it seemed, but more likely for only a couple of hours, then subsided
into a general malaise which I carried home with me at the end of that painfully
memorable day. Needless to say, that was my “last chaw”.
©2008LarryD.Davis
Larry D. Davis
It was a typical boiling hot August Sunday afternoon during my 15th year on
earth and the red liquid in the “Carter Cotton Gin “ thermometer on the side of grandma’s
porch had once again been driven above the 100 degree mark for the “umpteenth” time.
As was customary for a Sunday, the family had gathered for one of grandma’s famous (to
us) chicken dinners. We called the noontime meal “dinner” since in those days supper
was considered the last and lighter meal of the day. After the big meal we boy cousins
sought refuge from the stifling heat under the cooling shade of a giant cottonwood tree
and the chance to catch a breeze in the side yard. Shade there was, breeze there was not
and soon boredom, typical of a lazy summer day, set in. Seeking a diversion, we boys
approached Uncle Charley, grandma’s youngest brother, whom we could always depend
on for a secret “chaw of tobacco” as he called it. His favorite and only brand was
“Beech-Nut” in the familiar red and white striped pouch he always kept in his striped
overall pocket. We knew and trusted him as and he loved us kids since his only daughter
had died at an early age many years earlier. I now realize that our parents knew of his
generosity to us but pretended to not notice his indiscretion with the hope that we would
eventually be cured of our curiosity with chewing tobacco; thus solving the problem once
and for all. Uncle Charley always obliged when called upon and freely passed around his
tobacco pouch. Each of us, in turn, would imitate him and place a big ol’ wad in our
cheek then slowly chew and begin to spit as the “juices” started flowing. Actually, I
remember that it had a pleasantly sweet taste but I was still an amateur although I had
tried it several times in the past and always during family gatherings such as this.
However, this time, feeling particularly grown-up and bold, I accidentally swallowed too
much of the “ambeer” as he called it and soon I began to feel the ill effects of nicotine
poisoning. I began feeling “woozie” as Mother described it and, being extremely dizzy, I
immediately sat down on the crumpled top of a sagging hogwire fence surrounding the
side yard while great beads of sweat popped out all over my face in spite of the cooling
cottonwood canopy above. Suddenly, the world as I knew it was transformed into a
panorama of distorted surreal figures and my head started pounding from a near-blinding
headache which I felt certain would permanently damage my vision. Mulberry bushes
around the yard began swirling around me like visions from “Alice In Wonderland” and
the once familiar voices of my cousins became distorted and seemed to come from far
away as if they were speaking to me thru a long cardboard tube. I felt that death was
imminent and, at this point, not totally without merit. In an attempt to rid itself of the
offending poison, my stomach revolted with a violent case of the “dry heaves” but
nothing came out except warm water--- I was sick as a dog!! These sensations went on
for an eternity so it seemed, but more likely for only a couple of hours, then subsided
into a general malaise which I carried home with me at the end of that painfully
memorable day. Needless to say, that was my “last chaw”.
©2008LarryD.Davis