When I was growing up between the ages 4 to 6, in the early 1970s, my grandpa had a whole set of rules about what jokes he could play on me.

For example, I received my first pinch of chewing tobacco from my grandfather when I was 4.

Oh, I know there’s got to be some sort-of law against that, right?

When visiting my grandpa and grandma in Lake Mills, grandpa had his own chair in the living room and it always had a couple things by it — sticks of gum and chewing tobacco.

My grandfather had a soft spot in his heart for me, because he could fool me into doing just about anything. 

And when I was 4 years old, he had me tricked into thinking that chewing tobacco was the best tasting stuff on the earth.

So, he would take a pinch and have me smell the grains in the tobacco can. I thought it smelled awful, but he would tell me “It tastes a lot better than it smells!”

So, imagine this going on and my grandmother is two rooms away in the kitchen cooking lunch. She can hear my grandpa. The whole time my grandpa is trying to sell me on taking a pinch of chew, she’s yelling at him.

“Harold! Harold you quit playing with that boy and leave him alone! He doesn’t need any of your chewing tobacco!”

But I don’t hear that, because my grandpa has my attention and was pretty much like a god to me, so, sure enough, I’m dipping my little fingers into his tin of chew.

As soon as I put it in my mouth — yuck!

I’m not crying or anything, just pretty much grossed out. Grandpa, who is laughing himself out of his chair, gives me a little paper cup to spit it into and grandma came around the corner with a wet dish cloth to clean me up – yelling at grandpa all the way.

To make everything better, grandpa then gave me a stick of gum.

So, grandpa taught me to stay away from chewing tobacco and that gum was much better.

On my next visit, I came in the house with my GI Joe, eventually finding grandpa in his chair. He asked me if I wanted some chewing tobacco – of course I wrinkled up my nose at this and everyone laughed.

And my grandmother would start yelling from the kitchen, “Harold, you leave that boy alone! Quit teasing him.”

But grandpa had a new plan.

“Matt, I’ll trade you a stick of gum for your GI Joe. What do you think of that?”

I loved my GI Joe, but I really wanted a stick of gum and I knew grandpa would give me back my GI Joe before I went home.

Meanwhile, grandpa is constantly selling me on the trade – “This gum is really good and it lasts a long time. It’s a pretty good deal,” he said.

Grandma, of course, is still yelling.

So, eventually I caved in and said, “OK, grandpa, here’s my GI Joe. I’ll take a stick of gum.”

And grandpa snatched up my GI Joe and handed me one stick of gum.

As I began unwrapping the stick, I found the wrapper to be completely empty.

Before I had arrived, Grandpa had taken the stick of gum out of the wrapper and handed me a perfectly good-looking wrapper with no gum inside.

“Hey, where’s the gum?” I complained.

By this time, everyone in the house is laughing.

“Well, I gave you the stick, and that was the deal,” grandpa said.

Grandma is already wheeling around the corner yelling at my grandfather, throwing in some German words I don’t understand.

I didn’t cry or anything, but kept arguing my case. Eventually, grandpa shared half a stick of gum with me and I got my GI Joe back.

I think family entertainment was simpler and more meaningful way back then.

— Matt Johnson is publisher of the Monroe Times. His column is published Wednesdays.