When I was too young to know that smoking was dangerous, condoms
existed, and guns killed people, my father and I were walking through
the woods. We were on a camping trip, and, as was his custom when
camping, he had some chewing tobacco tucked into his cheek, spitting
every now and then onto the path we walked.
He called chewing
tobacco chaw, and on this particular walk, I asked him if I could have
some. If I could try some chaw. He said to me, he said sure, he said,
just don't swallow it. And he gave me a couple of sticky leaves from the
pouch. I wanted more, but I didn't ask, figuring I could always sneak
more later if I wanted.
I put it in my mouth and started to chew.
My father, he says, "don't chew, just stuff it into your cheek and let
it sit there. Just keep it there and spit the saliva out every once in a
while. Do not swallow the saliva."
Prior to this, all I knew
about chewing tobacco I learnt from Big League Chew chewing gum. Grape
flavoured gum that came in a pouch that looked like a chewing tobacco
pouch and had an image of a baseball player on it.
We walked
together down the path, the two of us spitting every now and again, and
the headache formed. The dizziness started. And when we walked out from
under the forest canopy into the sunlight, the sweat streamed from my
scalp and I threw up the eggs I had had for breakfast that morning.
I did not sneak any chaw later.