•  Southern Comfort (Page 5)

Last week we chatted about some of the unusual things I’ve discovered about aging. (Side note: it’s been suggested that I use the phrasing “as I mature”, but I’m not sure they’re one and the same. So there’s that.) But, back to my discoveries. Some of my findings are probably universal but I suspect that not all of them are, like my increasing tendency to let

My father’s mother starting dipping snuff as a five-year-old growing up in the hills of Kentucky. Papa likes to say, “People always said it’d kill her and they were right. When she was ninety-four years old, it finally caught up with her.” Grandma’s little brown jar of snuff was multi-purpose. When we grandkids got stung by a bee or a wasp, Grandma would treat the spot