tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23708015.post402579080017456324..comments2022-12-22T10:22:36.522-08:00Comments on Southern Grits & Sovereign Grace: Cotton Picking DaysAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09315967884033580328noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23708015.post-36729177474633687372010-12-15T14:28:51.347-08:002010-12-15T14:28:51.347-08:00Now you've done it again. You need to write a...Now you've done it again. You need to write another post on that black lady who could pick cotton with her two kids in tow. <br /><br />You're going to have to start a new label: Cotton Picking.<br /><br />We did luck out, coming along a little too late to pick cotton ourselves. <br />David R. BrumbelowDavid R. Brumbelowhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08926980202240271362noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23708015.post-23243680012550066022010-12-15T12:51:03.676-08:002010-12-15T12:51:03.676-08:00David,
I just missed out on the fun of Cotton Pic...David,<br /><br />I just missed out on the fun of Cotton Picking... by the time I came along the combine had put all the cotton pickers out of a job.<br /><br />My Dad tells me it was a tough job and those who could handle the work of picking cotton all day were tough individuals all right. In my mind there is no shame in being a cotton picker at all... my Dad picked cotton, my mom picked cotton, and my Dad tells me that just as many white folks picked cotton in the 1950's as did black folks. Dad tells me of this one black woman with two children in tow that used to put him to shame... She had a quota that she picked each day and she would be finished by lunch time while all the rest of them had to work all day long to catch up. And the kicker is that while she picked she was caring on child on her back and had another riding her cotton sack.<br /><br />I am sure glad I was born after the "Cotton Picking Days" were long past.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09315967884033580328noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23708015.post-38958076500801138972010-12-15T12:35:59.529-08:002010-12-15T12:35:59.529-08:00Greg,
Great story.
I’m just old enough to remem...Greg,<br />Great story. <br /><br />I’m just old enough to remember cotton picking. As a kid I remember us driving down from Houston to see my grandparents in the early 1960s. One lived in Old Ocean, the other in Damon, TX. I remember in the area around Sugar Land, southwest of Houston, seeing fields of cotton. You couldn’t see the end of the rows. And folks scattered across the field picking cotton. It seemed to me like a job that would never end. Even then I was glad I didn’t have to pick cotton for a living. <br /><br />My dad picked cotton some, but not for a living, just for some extra money. But cotton was big business around where he grew up. <br /><br />And I never viewed calling someone a cotton picker as a put down, or a racial slur. In my mind, anyone who picked cotton was tough and someone to be admired. <br />David R. BrumbelowDavid R. Brumbelowhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08926980202240271362noreply@blogger.com