We walked together down the path
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.