Catastrophe on the Front Porch

Catastrophe on the Front Porch

Would you like a Nana story?

I don’t smoke. I have never smoked, not cigarettes not pot. I don’t vape none of that.

I think that was because of the lesson my grandmother gave me.  That would be grandma Porter on my mother’s side.

Mom and daddy went to town. They’re going to go to the drugstore and probably to the ABC store to get some of their favorite juice whiskey.  Anyway, they left me with grandpa and grandma Porter.

A funny story about them they would call each other hawk. Thank you and I would say, babe or honey or darling. They called each other hawk.

I always thought that was very odd and I asked him, “why do you call each other hawk?” They said they’ve been doing it ever since they could remember and they don’t know why.

Anyway, I was about 6 when we went on the front porch after lunch. See in the south, you have a big lunch.  A big breakfast and a big lunch.  And a light dinner that’s a true southern tradition.

Well Grandma Porter dipped snuff. Pa Porter smoked cigars. My parents smoked cigarettes.  I find any kind of smoking, vaping, dipping or pinching horrific.

Now because my Mother smoked, she was going to hell according to the Southern Baptist and my Grandma Porter.

Cigars, snuff, dipping and chewing received a divine exemption.

So after lunch we trooped onto the front porch. Grandpa on the swing and Grandma and me on the rockers.

Grandpa took out his cigar and bit the end of it off and lit it up. Grandma got into the rocker and took out her snuff and snuff stick.

Let me stop here and tell you about the snuff stick.  The best one to use to make a brush is hickory.

Now leading up to this event that made the Cosmo stop, is the glory tempting mesmerizing roll of snuff on Grandma’s dresser.

There on this roll was a wrapper with two peaches side by side looking at each other so lovingly. This was an omen.

Yes, this was a sign from the divine above. The snuff tastes like peach cobbler. I was positive. It did cause of the two little peaches whispering to me.

After Mom and Dad left to go to town (Wadesboro)to do some shopping. I had plotted to talk to Grandma Porter about the experience. I sniffed to him so I could have peach cobbler tasting stuff.

So with this crazy plan of mine to dip snuff, we commenced to going out to the edge of the woods and getting me a hickory stick so I’d have the finest quality of dipping stick there was.

Once the stick was procured, I then started the ritual, chewing me in to make a brush.

We marched to the front porch. I got in my rocker, Grandma Porter got into her rocker.

Grandma pulled out the tin of snuff. We’re both at the end of our dipping stick. Grandma then pulled out the little chain of snuff.

Let me point out there’s a lard can on the front porch. This was used to spit in.  But if you could get your projectile out into the yard, you could spit over the boards of the front porch.

Now grandma could even dip snuff in church.  She had a little bit and a little piece of aluminum foil that she would use to dip real discreetly with her hand up so no one could see it. Then she had a little tin in her purse, so with the top on it so she could put in her spit, but she did that very discreetly and you wouldn’t know what she was doing. Then she would dab her lips with her little lace handkerchief with embroidery flowers on it.

Now here comes the big event where we’re in the rocking chairs. We got our wig, brushes, swirling, and our snuff. My grandma didn’t tell me the secret to actually placing the snuff in your mouth.

Oh yes, there is a secret. You’re supposed to put it between your teeth and your cheek.

I was not privileged to this important bit of information because I had just joined the snuff club.

What did I do? I grabbed mine in the middle of my mouth.

I have never in my entire life tasted something so horrible. I wanted to throw up. I was gagging.  I was coughing. I was crying. I was making a spectacle of myself.  But my grandparents did laugh. They thought it was a funniest thing they ever seen. In fact, Grandma peed in her pants.

I was again mortified. I ran back to the back to the house where Big Mama was and stayed back there until dinner.

This tale gets even worse!

Dinner time the cousins and the aunt and uncle came over for dinner. We were sitting at the table and Grandma commenced by telling my tale of whoa.  Yes, indeed, that woman told how I proceeded to dip snuff that day. Everyone at the table started laughing.

At this time, I wish a black hole would kind of swallow me up or I could slip quietly through the cracks of the floorboard.  Anywhere but in that chair at that table.  I got up for my place and I went back to see Big Mama.  I did not eat dinner. I was so upset.

Big mama fixed me some hot chocolate and made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. We sat on her couch and watched TV and I spent the night back there on the couch with Big Mama.