for my children and grandchildren including Bill:)

I have come to realize my siblings undoubtedly loved me dearly. Otherwise they would have killed me and left me in a cotton row. My memories of the cotton field days are of me running up and down the rows with my imagination creating my life for the day. When I grew tired I would find Joe Dell and sleep on his sack as he continued to pick cotton.

My siblings memories are quiet different. They started picking cotton as soon as they were old enough to pull a small cotton sack. Joe Dell said they would pick until their small sack was full and then dump it in Mama's sack. Joe Dell said it would make him angry because he would work so hard to fill his sack and then had to put it in Mom's sack.

When they started school they began picking cotton for their school clothes. Joe Dell said the pay was .02 cents a pound or $2.00 per hundred pounds. Joe Dell picked 300 pounds of cotton a day. Bonnie said everyone around called our family wanting them to pick for them because Joe Dell was so fast. Joe Dell said he picked so fast because he knew after he made the money for all his school clothes the remaining money he made he could spent at the Jackson fair.

In the summer as the cotton plants grew it had to be hoed around each stalk to keep the weeds cut down. This was called chopping cotton. Joe Dell said the last he chopped paid $4.00 a day. After school started some cotton fields would be ready for harvest. My siblings would pick cotton after school and on weekends. Then school would let out for about four or six weeks for cotton harvest. Instead of school five days a week it was hard, back breaking work for six days a week.

I have heard people say Brenda was pretty fast at picking cotton. Bonnie said she tried hard because she wanted to pick as much as Joe Dell but she just couldn't pick as fast as he could. It could have been because if I wanted something I ran to Bonnie and Joe Dell. If I was sleepy Joe Dell was strong enough he pulled cotton sack and me along as if rocking me in a cradle and never missed a beat at picking his cotton. Brenda was a loner. If she had her mind on doing something she wanted me to stay out of her way. Bonnie however would stop what she was doing to deal with me.

On top of dealing with the pest of a sister, the hot sun or cold day and hard work; the cotton bolls had four or five wooden needles. So when you picked the cotton they would stick your hands. By the end of the day your hands would be bleeding and sore. Not even that slowed them down.

Next Page: Cotton Page Two
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