Othelia's Back Porch
Miss Othelia is the oldest and wisest person in the Holler, so out of
respect, and because she saved Tater's bacon a time or two, we give her
her own page.
Snuff -- Is Half A Face Better Than None?
Special Commentary by Miss Othelia
Snuff is actually what I wanted to talk to y'all about today, come to think on it. Nasty stuff, truth be told, and seems to me that a body would have to be a bit teched already to want to sniff that nasty powder up one's nose, but folks'll do all sorts of things to their bodies just to make 'em thinner, or fatter, or all tingly 'n such. Seems some folks can't just leave good enough alone.
Now, I know y'all probably know some tobacco farmers, might even have some kin that make their livelies growin' it. We've got some tobacco farmers right here in this county, or close enough to it if you count The Corners as a part of the county, though some say it shouldn't be on account of how the county lines went all wicky-wack back in the 60's. If you don't have their acquaintance, best you stay away now, because they're gettin to be quite the pariahs with all the anti-this and anti-that talk goin' all roundy round these days. I can't say I ever cared much for 'em myself.
But y'all asked for science reports, not gossip, so here goes.
Right before the planes hit the towers, mebbe a month or a bit more, they banned tobacco over at Chez Dumas. Caused quite a ruckus, as I recall, because old man Laurence smoked up a storm, and Minnie said he couldn't smoke at her place no more, even though he did eat there more times than not every week. (Before you start thinkin' we had somehow acquired a fancy French restaurant, remember that Minnie Dumas - pronounced *with* the 's' - was the owner and proprietor of Chez Dumas, and it used to be called "Minnie's Diner", before she saw a documentary about Paris on the TV.)
Old man Laurence figured he'd fix Minnie and get his own fix at the same time, so to speak, by doin' a pinch instead of a puff, so he started buying snuff from the Walker Brothers, who always fire dried their tobacco rather than air dryin' it. Everybody knows that the fire-dried kind is more addictive than the air-dried kind, and it wasn't long before that fire-cured black tobacco had him all in its grip.
Laurence died 'bout three summers later, all riddled up with cancer, from the nitrosamines in that black tobacco, they say. Minnie's don't allow spittin' or sniffin' now either. They say she don't want no more customers with only a half a jaw, or a cut off nose.
Can't say as I blame her.
Miss Othelia