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Late yesterday afternoon, I made myself a hot toddy. I was cold and it helped warm me right up. It also made me just a bit dizzy which made me think of my Grandma Ada. She’s the only other person I’ve ever known that drank hot toddies.
My grandma was there when I was
born on a cold early morning. She remained a daily part of my life until I was
twelve years old. I have many happy memories of her and the contributions she
made to my life. Some of the brightest weavings in my life tapestry were by
her.
Whenever we were celebrating something
or it was a holiday, my daddy would ask grandma if she wanted a drink. She
always asked for a hot toddy and that it not be too strong. I remember her getting
a little silly by the time she finished her toddy. I also remember snuggling
into bed with her and having her laugh because the bed was swirling around the
room. It wasn’t swirling for me, but I loved being close and tight and saying I
wouldn’t let her fall off the unsteady bed.
Something else my grandma did
that I never took up or even came close to wanting to take up was snuff. In the
hills of Tennessee, it was a normal thing for women to use snuff. It wasn’t the
kind you see men using with a big cud of it in their cheeks. It was soft
powdery brown snuff. Grandma only used it after dinner when it was time to
relax. Then, she’d use her little silver spoon to put some of that powder in
her lower lip in front of her teeth.
Apparently, the caffeine in the
snuff relaxed her, but it also made her salivary glands work overtime. As long
as she lived with us, she always had her “spit” can. You see, she wouldn’t
swallow the brown-tinged saliva, but spit it into her can. We kids were always
very careful of her spit can because the last thing we wanted was to knock it
over. Even now, just typing this makes my stomach muscles kinda cringe at the
very idea.
I don’t remember ever trying or wanting
to try grandma’s snuff, unlike wanting to try my parents’ cigarettes. I think that
spit can was entirely responsible for my not wanting to indulge. Why my parents’
ashtrays didn’t have the same effect, I’ll never know.
I did find my parents’ cigarettes
disgusting as well, but then I wasn’t trying to smoke a virgin one. I tried
smoking a couple of the butts left in the ashtray…so very very nasty. Oh, and I
didn’t say they were Camel and Lucky Strike straights…even worse.
Even when I began smoking at the
age of twenty-three or -four, I didn’t choose one of their brands or even my
husband’s brand. I chose Virginia Slims and had no idea how addictive those
skinny and oh so very cool cigarettes would become. I don’t think they were all
that strong, because eventually I moved on to a stronger filter cigaretteS…never
those Marlboroughs though.
It took many years and many
attempts to give up cigarettes and even now, I can’t believe I actually smoked
those things. Just today I had to walk by a group of people with at least one
of them smoking…it STANK a lot. To think my house, car, clothes, body, hair all
stank like that at various times in my life seems almost unbelievable now.
These days I’m extremely pure
although like my grandma, I do like me a hot toddy now and then.