Maeburl Tincher
My family lived on Anthony Branch for several years before moving to Jutts Creek.
My best friend at the time was Grace West. Almost every day, we got off the school bus together where U.S. Highway 129 and Jack Branch Road intersected.
The picturesque Bob West Farm also ran alongside Jack Branch. At the entrance to their property was a cold mountain spring that could quench any thirsty soul – including schoolchildren and railroad workers.
In those days, the Ole Shay steam engine ran adjacent to the Tallulah Valley creek, destined for the Bemis Lumber Company on Atoah Road.
Some of the early days of fall could be hot and climbing up Jack Branch made it even hotter. Nevertheless, camaraderie with schoolchildren and railroad section workers made the experience an easier one.
Now in those days, tobacco was a popular product – especially for farmers. It was a valuable cash crop that helped stimulate the local economy.
Tobacco was also used for pleasure and my daddy raised a variety known as “Burley.”
One day I decided to experience some of that pleasure. I tried chewing some homegrown Burley I had found laying around the place. The necessary skill of chewing and spitting was lost on me – particularly the spitting part.
Within a few minutes, I was a very disappointed and ill child. A short while later, Mama found me and asked what was wrong.
I said, “Oh Mama, this ole Burley is not doing me any good.”
About a year later, Grace and I had gotten off the school bus and were passing by the spring that bordered the West farm.
The section men for the railroad were there enjoying a good cold drink of water.
Before the workers left, my friend Grace asked them for what she thought was a dip of snuff. I joined in on her request, thinking it would be a milder experience. They readily obliged and instructed us to open our mouth and pull out our lower lip.
Little known to me they had filled our mouths full of Copenhagen.
Grace and I started on our way up Jack Branch. As the climb steepened, my pace slowed until my legs begin to tremble, my head got swimmy, my stomach curled, my knees buckled and down I went.
I was down for the count with the Copenhagen Fallout. If that old Burley hadn’t done me any good, then old Mr. Copenhagen was trying to kill me for sure.
Grace stayed by my side until I recovered and must still be worried about me: the phone rang just as I was finishing this column.
It was her! I hadn’t heard from her in months.
We reminisced and laughed about the experience. She reminded me that she was much more accustomed to using tobacco products than I was. But even more so, I’m reminded that childhood friendships are friendships for life and the memories shared bind us together – even in to old age.
Maeburl Tincher writes a monthly column for The Graham Star. She is a native of the Jack Branch community.