Memories of home
by Wilma Lois Robinson Payne
We rented a farm south of Lone Chimney where we raised cotton. When we had to hoe cotton or pick it, we got to stop and get a pop. Daddy always chewed “Days Work”. He just cut off a piece when he wanted a chew. One day when we were picking cotton, Fred and I thought we should have something to chew also. We fussed until he gave us a small piece. Fred challenged me on how fast and good he was at chewing and wanted to know if I was as good as him. Naturally I had to do everything better than him. I opened my mouth to show him I was really chewing and naturally all the juice went down my throat. I became very sick and had to rest under a tree. Fred had spit his out.
We got paid by the pound for picking cotton, so I lost some wages by being sick. We could pick good even while we were fussing, but Daddy had a cotton switch for us. He used it to get our attention and then we would really pick fast.
Dora Robinson Stewart
I remember one time Wilbur and I were haying on the place where Leon lives. I hit a rock with the rake and broke some spokes. I headed to Carter’s to have it welded. I had to go to the house to wash up. I couldn’t have Red seeing me so very dirty, hay field dirty. When I stopped at the house, Dad not there. His bed was where he could see out that east door. I went up to garage. When I back, still no dad. I went to field and told Wilbur. We called it a day. When we got home, dad there. He had stuck his foot in the fan, one of those big black fans that didn’t have all the guards they now do, plus much stronger.
Now Leona tells the story of Dad sticking his foot in the fan during granddad Fowler’s funeral. So one of us is mixed up. Wilbur is not here to straighten us out.
p.s. Barbara said that two of the small children were sleeping in front of the fan. One of the started stirring and Keller reached out with his foot to move the fan away from them and got his toe caught by the fan blades
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