Childhood; each person recalls this part of their
live. Some with love and joy; others
with sorrow and pain. I remember love
and joy although I know that others looking on probably saw sorrow and pain.
Does this tell us that life through the innocence of a
child’s eye looks different? We lived
through some very rough, cold, hungry times.
Why, then, do I recall them as sweet times? I don’t know for sure, but I do believe it
was because of Mother; Mother, Marie,
Clifton, Tommy, and the community. Our
home, not the house we lived in, but the home that we were part of was yet
another reason. All of these things
brought me to believe there was a higher power looking over us. We belonged.
We fit in. We were accepted. We were watched over. We loved and were loved.
I have decided (Isn’t that a beautiful song) when you are
loved by a parent, of which we had just Mother, and a family unit who works
together for the well being of that family, that all things will work out. We worked together every day except Sunday,
and even then there were things that had to be done on the farm, such as
feeding what few livestock we had, preparing the meals, drawing water, carrying
in wood for heat and cooking. A workday
was from sun up to sun down and then a half-day on Saturday. But, then, there wasn’t that sense of rush we
feel today. There was no time clock or
someone over you pushing you to get done.
When Mother pulled up that
cotton sack, shock down the cotton, seated herself on that sack, and reached
for her Prince Albert can, we all gathered around. In the middle of the cotton field we all
gathered and enjoyed yet another special time.
The boys often took this opportunity to throw a few green bolls at the
other people around us. Marie and Mother
talked or sang and I usually just lay back listening to, smelling and tasting
the beauty of the world around me. I
always wrote in the dirt with a stick.
Mother was always so
knowledgeable of the things around her, and she taught us all she could. I don’t remember ever seeing something
growing, crawling, or flying that Mother didn’t know about. Like most people her age, Mother had only an
Eight-Grade education, but she was much more intelligent than her children
were, because she had what one can’t learn from books. She had an inquisitive mind. She always wanted to learn more. Mother loved talking to people, was a good
listener, and from early in her life, loved to read. But by the time we children came along, there
just wasn’t much time to read except when she helped us with our homework.
Our childhood is something we all remember. We recall the good with the bad, but it all
ends up in beautiful memories. We forget
how tired we became of beans and potatoes before the long cold winter was
finally over and we could plant a garden.
We forget how hot July and August was, without a fan, much less air
conditioning, or a refrigerator from which to get a cold drink of water. We just remember the cool swim in the ponds
and creeks, and making homemade ice cream on the Forth of July. And we remember the way a cold Pepsi and a
bologna sandwich tasted when we had finally picked enough cotton to take a bale
to the gin.
We forget how many hours it took to pick that load of
cotton and the cockleburs that we found on our hair that night. And somehow we forget how our shoulders and
back hurt, as we dragged that last sack of cotton towards the wagon, as the sun
was lowering into the western hills and treetops.
Do we really forget?
No, I don’t think we ever really forget.
I think the Lord just helps us to remember the love in our lives,
because He is love. He is the love of
life, family, and nature. How
wonderfully he has made us all. I do
remember one hurtful situation. I saw it
coming and there was no way to avoid it, it seemed. I walked away for a short period of time and
prayed, “Lord, let this pass and remove it from my memories.” He has done just that. Now we can’t always do that. Some of this comes with age. But now I know that even though life may chew
me up, it can’t swallow me. Life, like
memories, goes on.
