I mowed lawns, delivered papers , washed cars.
When old enough worked in a fruit packing house part time
during school and full time when school was out.
My father gave us a cotton pickin course one year.
A fruit picking course another year.
Both times it was spur of the moment just driving down the road.
Both times he didn't say a word to us children. He would talk to the
foreman for a few minutes then to work we went. Hand over hand farm work
and the ccc camps kept him and his brother and his mother alive
during the depression. He never forgot those days and wanted
us to experience them. I am so glad he did.
The cotton picking by hand was a life changing moment for me.
I realized how hard it must have been to do that job all day long
every day during the season because my father explained
it to us. Not whining, not crying but proud he got thru
the ordeal while keeping himself and others together.
He always tipped a hat or shook the hand of people in like
circumstances his entire life.
What people did just to survive was extraordinary. My
dad still spoke the lingo and he and the crew hit it off
completely. Skin color was no issue. They all knew
what my dad was doing and why. The mutual respect
was obvious and that was no jalopy we left on
the roadside . Having a real man as a father was enlightening.
A precious commodity and I knew it then, as a child.
Ah crap. Typing to much. For some reason my memory
is pretty perky these days.
Have a good day.
Loki wrote:
When I was kid, we didn't have Burger King for an after school job. It was yard and farm work for movie money.