Dad

Living in a different period of time than my older sisters makes my memories of Dad working a little different. I don't remember Dad doing much farming earlier in my life. He always had a garden - a big garden. I only have memories of playing while my sisters picked cotton. Memories of walking through the fields while Dad "put up" electric fences, chopping down the brush and driving the "stobs" with the butt of the ax are happy ones. Attaching the wire to the insulator was my job. Going to feed the cows with Dad, listening to him call out "Cora Bread" and watching him prime the pump was always interesting. He would have to carry a bucket of water, pour it in the pump and pump as hard and as fast as he could to get the pump working each day. Once the pump was "primed", he then could pump enough water to fill the large barrel for the cow's drinking water. Memories of the cotton mill times are blurred for me. When we lived in Edenton, one of my jobs was to have lunch ready for Mom and Dad when they arrived home @ 11:30. On occasion, they'd arrive home to find a sign on the door with the today's specials as I was pretending to own the diner. (I was always a great pretender - maybe that's why I like preschool!) On other occasions, they arrived to find me still in bed!

After Dad stopped working at the cotton mill, he raised soy beans, sweet corn and still had a big garden. He and Carlton Asbell worked together cutting, crating and delivering the corn to the market. There was always a time of getting together to "settle up" after corn season was over. For many years, Dad raised pigs to sell and to kill. Loading the pigs to take to the market was hard for one person to do. Driving a straight shift and trying to back according to Dad's instructions as a 17 year old was also hard! As a senior, going into my 1st period class late and having to explain that you had to help your dad load the pigs was a little harder. When I finally got the truck backed up to the ramp, he'd corner the pigs and run them up the chute. There would always seem to be one stubborn pig that would not comply. Round and round the small pen, that pig would run. I can hear Dad, through gritted teeth, saying it now, "I will show you that you WILL go!"

DAD

I also have mostly pleasant memories of dad farming. I remember chopping peanuts with
Mama and Dad. I had a little hoe that he had made for me. I would chop one row and then when Mom and Dad would start on another row, I'd come back down my row again to make sure I did not forget any weeks. I had a scar for years on my ankle where I cut myself with my little hoe. Dad stills talks about the hoe and wonders where it went and wishes he still had it. I believe Joyce and Gloria played at the end of the row in the shade of the trees. Of course this was before Bertha was born. I remember us picking wild blackberries that grew in the trees. I also remember fondly a few times that we cooked hotdogs for lunch in the shade of the trees at the end of the rows.



I really don't remember how many years dad and mom worked at the cotton mill. Yes I do remember the bad times and I believe they started only after they moved to Edenton. One memory that I have is that once Dad was watching boxing match and did not want to leave to go to work (this was when he was working the night shift before mom went to work there) and he was going to be late for work. He was speeding and got caught and got a ticket. The cop said that it made him nervous having to drive so fast to catch up with dad. Dad said that if he had known the cop was chasing him, he would have never caught him. Don't think he told the cop, it's what he told us later.