Have a chaw

This post of Og's stirred some memories. In my youth I was fond of chewing tobacco. It started one day when my dad was working in the yard and pulled out a plug. I asked him what it tasted like and he gave me a small chunk with the admonition to never swallow the juice. I am sure his intent was to teach me the evils of tobacco in a real hands-on lesson. I liked the stuff. So on and off from the time I was 8 or 10 I chewed (I could never enjoy Skoal, just leaf) or smoked an occasional cigar. In those days there was no age limit on buying tobacco, or if there was, it was not enforced.

By my late teen years I chewed regularly. In college good old BeechNut red was the tonic that kept me up late studying. I had a very large jar I had rescued from the kitchen trash and for months I spit into that jar, never emptying it. It was a gross science project worthy of the most evil Nazi surgeons. I kept it in the window near my desk so the gamma rays from the sun could work extra magic on the thick smelly fluid. My used cuds also were spit into the jar. Alas one Saturday the jar disappeared while I was in the shower. Either one of my roommates or my girlfriend chucked it out. No one claimed responsibility. The next penicillin, the cure for Aids or Cancer was probably living in that jar.

One evening late in my college career I was sitting in an easy chair reading an assignment. I habitually spit into a plastic coffee cup (then dumped it into my jar). The tome must have been dreary as I was drinking coffee. Not being completely stupid, the coffee was on the left of the chair, the spit cup on the right. You know what is coming. I reached down and took a huge swig of BeechNut spit. It took me a week or two before I could chew again.

My wife is a good soul. The only thing she has ever asked of me is that I quit chewing when we got married. I still smoke an occasional cigar, but I have rarely chewed since. I have to say I do not really miss it, but it did cure the boredom of long road trips.