THE LAST WALKING COTTON PICKER
Repost and edited from Feb of ’11.
“You know son, I guess I’ve gotta be one of the last walkin’ cotton-pickers left.” He said quietly, as if the realization just crept up on him.
“Really?” I was caught a little of guard.
My dad went on to explain the details of some of his childhood that I’d never heard from him my entire life. I knew my dad was born to a poor sharecropper family in Arkansas, I just didn’t know some of the details.
One of the first times I got in trouble at school was for making fun of another kid. My dad used some of his childhood memories to teach me one of many life lessons.
I was use to teasing and being teased by my big brothers and friends. It was a pretty tough area we grew up in. It seemed kinda natural to make fun of the kid in my class that ate baby food. He must have had something wrong with his stomach or something, but I didn’t bother to worry about that part of the equation at the time.
I was only considering the laughing and having fun part, not the other people’s lives, feelings, and future impact I might have on one of them part.
When word got back to my dad through the usual channels, he was not amused to say the least, but he wasn’t angry. Even at a young age I could tell he was deeply disappointed. Enough time has passed for me to recognize that he was heartbroken by my actions. Those kinds of acts were never part of my dad’s life, he was a champion of the weak or downtrodden.
It would take many of my dad’s stories about his life and experiences to teach a hard-headed son.
My dad didn’t even whip me for making fun of Ronald at school. You see, I knew enough about my dad’s life from my brothers and uncles to know that my dad was a tough. He’d rescued his brothers on many occasions and I knew he’d boxed in the Air Force, just one of the many stories I used to build the vision of my dad around.
That afternoon he took me into his room; that’s where we’d sometimes get whipped for blatant disobedience. The lesson began.
“Sit down son…” He began to tell me about his days in school as a kid around my age. My dad shared with me how there were many times in his school days that his family didn’t have enough money to buy him or his brothers shoes for school.
I was horrified. He shared with me how hurt he’d been as a kid when the other kids would make fun of him for something he couldn’t do anything about. My dad also told me how disappointed he was that one of his own children would make fun of another person the way the kids had made fun of him.
I was learning the other untold side of my dad and who he really was in heart and character. You gotta know by that point, as much as I hated getting whipped, it would have been way less painful than this lesson I was learning.
Whippings were a bit painful on the outside, this punishment was painful on the inside. I never cried as hard over punishment or groundings as I did that day. The next day when I apologized to Ronald I meant those words from the bottom of my heart.
I gotta give my dad credit, he taught me a good lesson. I never, ever made fun of anyone like that again. Oh, there were many more lessons for a kid like me to learn and it usually was the hard way, but not that lesson. That cottoone I got.
I was proud to know and tell others that my dad was one of the last walking cotton-pickers. My dad and I talked about, and he carried that title of realization for about a year and a half after that… Now he’s gone…
I miss my hero, the last walking cotton picker… He taught me a lot…
I share his stories with my kids and friends to teach and inspire them and me to live a Godly and humble life like my dad did.
I’m honored to carry the title and share the memories of the last walking cotton-picker’s son…
Brad Gore
Sunday, March 17, 2019 @ 9:26 pm
I love this story. Yes everything about it. Your father was a very good man and obviously a very good father. A great lesson learned and taught the right way. There is a smile on my face and tears in my eyes as I reflect on your blog. Thank you my friend
bill (cycleguy)
Monday, March 18, 2019 @ 5:52 am
You were blessed to have the father you did Floyd. One who may have been tough as nails but one who would take the time to sit down with his son and explain life. Thanks for sharing this story. On the side: I used to use the phrase “cotton picker” for the longest time. Now I can get in trouble for using it. Sheesh!
Lynn D. Morrissey
Monday, March 18, 2019 @ 5:56 pm
this is such a heartrending and heartwarming story, Floyd. What a wonderful father you had, and he was obviously teaching you a biblical principle… the Golden Rule. It’s lessons like this, given in love with compassion, sincerity, and truth that hit home like nothing else can. No wonder you never forgot it… or your dad, and you are so much better for it, and I might add, more like him! Beautifully told!
Love
Lynn
Pam
Monday, March 18, 2019 @ 5:58 pm
Another great story, Floyd. And an important lesson learned at an impressionable age. A very wise dad!
Martha J Orlando
Tuesday, March 19, 2019 @ 5:37 am
Such a touching and loving tribute to your father, Floyd. He was truly a remarkable man, and knew exactly how to impart a valuable lesson to his son.
Blessings!
Betty J Draper
Tuesday, March 19, 2019 @ 8:49 am
I love it when you write about your family. The hard times of your early life did not hurt you brother, in fact they are the foundation you write from and live from. What a blessing to have a Father who loved you enough to use your failures to teach you truth that has stayed with you.
Cheryl
Wednesday, March 20, 2019 @ 10:20 am
Oh, my, Floyd. I am in tears. I think your Dad and my Dad would have been the best of friends had they known each other. We are very blessed to have the heritage we have, and now we do our utmost to carry it on and instill it into our own kids. I love reading your stories about your Dad. I read this one aloud to Kevin, and he enjoyed it so much along with me. I wish so bad you would compile all of the stories of your Dad and your life and put them into a book that would get published so the whole world could read them and be blessed. Maybe you have already written them all down. If not, I hope you will.
Dolly at Soulstops
Friday, March 22, 2019 @ 4:57 pm
Floyd,
Thank you for sharing this story of how your dad’s own pain taught him to be compassionate toward those who are suffering and how he taught you to be compassionate toward others and to not make fun of others. Deep lessons. Thank you. Your dad sounds like he was a wise man.
Hazel Moon
Saturday, March 23, 2019 @ 2:48 pm
Oh me oh my – not I am the one to be ashamed. Yes, there were times I was not nice to others as a child, but my mother took me in the house for a talk, similar to what your dad did with you. Those talks were the best lessons learned. Great story Floyd. By the way, Robert did his share of cotton picking, worked in the fields, also in the tobacco and almost killed himself once home made dusting tobacco with a pillow case and was it arsenic to kill the bugs. I never picked cotton, but one summer I did work pitting apricots while visiting my cousin. Every day for one week, was enough, but I was glad for the $10 I earned.