Amanda Knox
Peppermint-sweet Tobacco
2,740 words My grandfather was a proud man; he had accomplished many things in his life, and was quick to tell about them. I spent hours listening to him talk of how he had established his own practice in Chicago, and then spent years as the head of the Veterinarian’s Association. He constantly had a story to tell me, or a lesson to teach me. “I worked my way through all ten years of college. I even lived in the back of an animal hospital for a year or so, and delivered meds. It was worth it though. I had to work hard, but it got me everything I wanted in life.” Between innings of a Cubs’ baseball game he would relive his childhood with me. He was raised in the small town of Belle Plain, Kansas, and raised by his paternal grandparents. His mother died shortly after his birth, so we rarely talked of his family. Instead, he would spend hours showing me the best hands in poker, while I counted the change in his “money sock.” I learned quickly that “A royal flush beats all, but the trick is to play with a wild—then you can get a five of a kind.” But our favorite game to play together was always checkers. I could play for days. He never let me win. I had to earn every king, and learn every trick, fair and square. My grandfather always had something in his mouth, whether it was a type of tobacco, or a red-white, pin-wheeled peppermint. Being the “worldly” man that he was, he changed his method with the times. When I was a very small child he smoked a pipe. I remember liking the smell that came out of the rounded end when the lit match hit the tobacco for the first time. Towards the end of my time in elementary school he switched to cigars. It was the common thing then; the men who would come over to visit smoked cigars too. When I entered middle school my grandfather began chewing his tobacco. It was this