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Tobacco_ Jamie Griggs Tevis As a young man my dad smoked. He used to come to the house and sit down in a rocking chair to rest before noonday dinner. He took out a sack of Bull Durham and carefully stuck a little tobacco into a cigarette paper, spit on it to close it and then lighted up. I often rolled one of the papers around his match, and we had a "smoke." His minister convinced him that smoking was harmful to his health. One day he said to me, "I'll quit smoking if you will." I agreed, but I missed our cozy times together. Daddy tried to stop growing tobacco. If it is harmful to smoke it, it must be harmful to raise it. He looked into the matter with the Farm Bureau and found that his land would not be worth much without the tobacco base. It would have been difficult to make a living without the cash crop. We lived on a fifty-acre farm in Madison County, with less than an acre of tobacco base. Early spring, daddy dragged up a pile of wood and then plowed the 9 ? 100-foot tobacco bed. It was
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jan 8, 2001
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