This morning’s Minneapolis StarTribune included an article about Sweden, its soon to be enacted restaurant smoking ban, and the country’s long love affair with Snuff (or as the Swedes call it ‘Snus.’) Snuff, of course, is that disgusting smokeless tobacco that one places between his cheek and gum. Swedish Match, the company that produces 95 percent of the nation’s snus, claims that it’s a lot better than smoking tobacco. But I tend to believe the expects who say it still raises one risk of oral cancer and possibly pancreatic cancer.

But anyways, the article got me remembering (allowed and encouraged this weekend) some of my paternal ancestors who loved the stuff, the snuff stuff. Spittoons were often more than mere furniture in the home; they were decorative shrines to the buzz they must have gotten from the slimy stuff. We host no spittoons in our home, but we do treasure a related item that sits upon our dining room hutch. I have the privilege of caring for my paternal grandmother’s father’s snuff box. It might not sound like much. But Oscar Wisen was a skilled cabinet maker and he harnessed his talents to create my most treasured piece of art. The inside, of course, is a mere container for his beloved chew. But the cover is a most remarkable carving of him in his work shop. He is standing next to his many tools which are orderly hanging on the back wall.

To display this treasure, we set it upon a dining room hutch that he hand crafted from solid oak. It’s wonderful to have these reminders of him and to be able to appreciate something brought to life in the 19th century.