The Good Ole Days Were The Best Days 5b6k1w

THE GOOD OLE DAYS WERE THE BEST DAYS

JOHNNIE MAE GREEN

Copyright © 2019 by Johnnie Mae Green.

ISBN: Softcover 978-1-7960-7450-5 eBook 978-1-7960-7449-9

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Rev. date: 11/27/2019

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This is a short autobiography of my life, times and experience. Everything is true life events. I was born near the close or the ending of the Hoover Days. Those days were declared to be bad. Yet, I wasn’t there through them, so I didn’t see all the bad and hunger that I heard about. People knew that they had to work to provide for themselves and their families. All of the families had nothing but love for each other and it was the greatest survival object that they could have had. Love binds, love forgives, love embraces, and love feels each other’s heart.

Today love is no longer in the hearts of man. So how can we be in better times? No way. Let’s seek love (God is love). Then we can find the old path and walk therein.

The truth of the matter is not one person knew they were poor. Everyone had about the same of everything, except some families had as many as 10 or more children. The only difference was there were more children to share chores with, work the fields, gather the fire wood and stove wood. Then enjoy the night time story telling and singing church songs. They would also have a ball game with the neighbor’s children being there.

My daddy was a native of Cropwell, Al. St. Clair County. My mama was a native of Samantha, Al. Tuscaloosa County. My daddy worked as a laborer on what was called the Good Roads. They built roads. When he was working in Tuscaloosa County he and my mama met and got married.

On July 18, 1930 I was born in Samantha Al, Tuscaloosa County. My parents were Herbert and Elizabeth Gibson Beavers. I was the first girl born in a family of 2 brothers, and four years later I had a sister. When I could first we lived in a three-room house or (shelter). You knew the conditions of the weather before you got up in the morning. If it was raining the house leaked. If it was cold, the wind came in through the cracks in the walls and floors. My parents were share croppers. The doors and windows were wood, with lots of cracks in

them. They were fastened with wooden latches. We could pluck feathers from the chickens under the floor. There was no such thing as my room. It was at least three beds in each of the two rooms and a wooden frame bed in our parents’ room. The mattresses were cotton packed in striped bed tickling material. The mattress had a hole in the middle, so that the bumpy cotton could be stirred and patted to get the bed smooth and then tacked back together. The beds had to be smooth. The floors had to be swept each morning. Sweeping was not a chore because you could sweep the trash through the cracks in the floor. Our brooms were sage straw bundled and tied together with twine or rag strings. The mop was shucks from corn tied on an old hoe handle or sometimes just a stick.

My mother’s daddy was a slave baby. He was less than a year old when slavery ended (or did it). He became a carpenter and blacksmith. My mother was on of seven siblings, five brothers and two sisters. I was blessed to know all my mother’s siblings. My daddy had three sisters and only one brother that I knew. He had several step siblings.

We were farmers that raised and grew our own food. My daddy grew cotton, corn, peas, sorghum, potatoes, coffee, and tobacco (the tobacco had monstrous worms and we had to pick them off the plants daily). We also raised chickens, hogs and claves. My daddy hunted and fished so we had rabbits, squirrels, possums, turtles, quail and fish. We didn’t have the luxury of ordering what we wanted to eat but we always had plenty of food. There was a big stove in the kitchen, a long wooden table with a bench on each side, a cook table near the stove and a homemade cabinet or shelves for the dishes and pots. Every member of the family had chores. Getting the fire wood and stove wood was usually the boys’ chores. My mom and dad milked the cows. We all had to feed the chickens and the hogs. The girls had to wash the dishes bring in the pee buckets and we all had to be sure the water buckets were full. Our water supply was a well dug in the ground. It had to be boxed in and had a draw line with a rope tide to a bucket. We would let the rope down in the hole fill the bucket up and draw it back up with water in the bucket. Sometimes you would have a frog or even a snake in the bucket. We would get it out and kill it and carry the water inside. Sometimes the well would go dry and we would have a cistern. That was the same as the well, except it caught rain water. As each one of us became old

enough for the field work, off to the field they would go. The hours were from sun up to sun down. 11:30 a.m. till 1:00 p.m. was lunch time. The ones not ready for the field work had to be the water carriers. Maybe every hour to 2 hours the workers had to have fresh water.

We didn’t know what a neighborhood was. I believe each house was about a quarter mile apart. Our parents could get outside and call, and we would hear them. We worked the fields Monday thru Friday and on Saturday was washing and cleaning day. The wash pot and tubs were set up down on the branch or creek. Two or three families shared the same wash place. We would have to get up early, get wash wood, fill up the wash pot and build a fire under it. That was for heating the water in the first tub or wash tub and boiling the clothes in the pot. First the clothes were put in the tub covered with water and soap for a little while then the rub board was brought out to scrub the clothes, when that was done, over in the boiling pots they would go, with the lye soap. The boiling bleached the clothes. Bleach was unheard of. After the wash pot ordeal, the cloths were lifted out and put in the first rinsing tub. There were always two rinses or sometimes three. Then, the clothes were hung on the barbed wire pasture fence to dry.

Back to the house for the sunning of the mattresses, scrubbing the floors, and getting the bed bugs out of the creases of the mattress and cracks or seams in the bed frames. The yards also had to be swept. The broom was made with dog wood branches and tied together. We had to sweep under the porch too. Everyone looked forward to Sundays because it was our only time to see our friends, cousins and neighbors. I really believe everybody went to church. It started at 11a.m. and ended when they wanted it to. My mom always fixed us a little lunch, because we were there so long. At our home church we only met for worship once a month. We had Sunday school every Sunday. The Sundays that we didn’t have worship we would go to a neighboring church. Mostly each church met one Sunday per month. It was a dynamic fellowship. After church or Sunday school, lots of us would head for the creek during the summer time. We looked for snakes or went swimming (skinny dipping).

Before I was ready for field work my duty was to watch the food my mama had put on the stove for dinner. I also made corn bread. My daddy bragged on my bread and I thought I was a chef. I also had to watch the baby chicks to keep the hawks from catching them. Poor me I was afraid of everything. But I loved to shoot my daddy’s 22 rifle. We always had an early breakfast and that’s about the only meal the flies didn’t take over. We got little branches of peach trees and other trees, to try to shoo the flies. They were not afraid. I believe everything I ate as a child had a fly on it. Ok, now for our sanitary conditions. We had a building (small) out back a distance from the house. The little house had a deep hole dug underneath, inside was a bench built up across the hole with two holes cut in the bench. That was the toilet. Tissue was old paper sacks, newspaper, leaves and paper from mail order catalogs. As we were using it, we did not have a door to close. When that hole was almost full the little house was moved to another place with a new hole.

Now, for the upbringing, as I’ve stated no one lived work free and no one was grown before their time. Everyone we knew that was a grown up was a Mr., Miss., Mrs., uncle, aunt or cousin. If any of the ones stated saw you doing wrong, or as the older people would say showing out. They had our parent’s approval to discipline us, or spank us, whip us, or just tell our parents and it was tough on us. My parents did not spare the rod and they didn’t over discipline. We were always warned, and if that didn’t work, we had another warning. Then a sincere talk as to why we disobeyed followed by a switch whipping. Yes, the other adults could do the same, go tell your parents and you sometimes got another one. When we were working the fields and someone killed a snake, we’d hurry to hang the snake up. That was supposed to make it rain and it did. We would grab our little stick poles, rusty fish hooks, bottle cork, bobbers and to the creek we were headed. After the crops was all planted, chopped out and laid by we were ready for the 4th of July. That was the party time. We would have a churn full of lemonade to or three hand turned ice cream freezers of ice cream, and usually our first watermelon of the year. We had an ice-cream truck that ran two times a week, we would put the ice cream in a tub filled with sawdust and wrap the ice in quilts and blankets to keep it until the next day. It was black ice we chipped it with an ice pick, but it worked. After the feast there would be a baseball game down in the pasture. We children, had our games, hop scotch, tag, drop the handkerchief, London bridge and others. What a time.

After crop time when all the crops were done my daddy worked at a saw mill. My mama did house work for the land owners. So, we picked dry peas, cotton, gathered corn and sweet potatoes. Made sorghum syrup. The lye soap was made (oh gosh). They sowed all the winter ashes, we had an ash harbor. I can’t exactly how it was built, but they would wet the ashes and it would drip into a pail. During the spring they took all the old meat that had yellowed and ruined the old bones and grease, put it in the old black pot and add red devils’ lye and cook it until it was a thick something (they called it soap). I believe I used it for everything. I know for washing, cleaning and maybe bathing. I do we had the octagon soap, maybe it was the bath soap. I guess next we’ll put the sweet potatoes in the keel. This was a pole put in the ground, with lots of pine straw around it. Then, the potatoes and the corn stalks, in wigwam fashion and another covering the corn stalks again with pine straw. An opening was left in the wigwam to get the potatoes out, and the rats in. Now, its syrup making time. When the sorghum cane was matyre, it was stripped, cut, bundled, seed heads cut off, loaded on the wagon, and to the syrup mill it would go. The syrup mill was kind of like a merry go round, drown by a mule. The cone was fed through a chute that mashed all the juice out into a long copper pan that set over a long fire pit for cooking they had a long rod, with a screen for straining the syrup. It is a constant job of stirring and dipping the foam and being sure the syrup was not over cooked. If it was it would turn to sugar.

I guess I was to dumb to know anything about segregation, we knew to go to the back door of the white people houses and the back door to the café’s (where we didn’t go). Drink at the water fountain that said colored. As I stated earlier all people older than us were Mr., Mrs., Miss, aunt, uncle, or cousin. I even thought the white people were too, but my family quickly corrected me. Our last land owner had two girls and one boy. So, my brother and I swam in the creek with them (skinny dipping). I am quite sure neither of our parents knew about it. Since my parents were away from home during the day. I had the chance to go to school with my brothers when I was 4 years old. I don’t think there was any such thing as a birth certificate. I went all year and at the end of the year I was promoted. There was no public transportation, and we walked sometimes 3 miles each way. Winter was our most profitable school time, we had full days from Nov., Dec., Jan., Feb., and Mar (eight to three). After Mar.,

the hours were from eight to twelve. This was so the children could help with the farm work and not miss any days from school. By the time we made the walk home, there wasn’t much time left. We lived in Samantha, Al, Tuscaloosa County (Beat 4). Our school was called Ebeneger. There was a church, next door, that was Ebeneger Baptist Church. Maybe the school was church sponsored. They probably paid the teachers. The school taught primer through fourth grade. My first teacher was Miss. Emma Alexander. Our subjects were reading, writing, arithmetic, and spelling. I am very sure there were at least fiftyfive or more students. Just one teacher maybe twenty-one years old. There was small children, middle sized children, and large children, but only thing got sent home was a conduct notes, could be good to bad. If it was good you had earned a gold star on the bulletin board and your report card. If it was a misconduct you earned a good paddling from the teacher and a real good whipping from your parents when you got home. If you had a bad report card, the first thing the next morning we would see one of the parents. They would apologize to the teacher and assure her it would never happen again. If we disagreed on something the teacher would take both parties inside, talk with them and demand they give each other a hug, case closed. Through the winter months the men that lived closest to the school would keep wood on the yard. We all had to bring it inside. The water was carried from the wells at different homes. One day one group of boys would bring it in and vice versa. We all had to have our own tin cups, with our name pasted on them. The toilets were the same as they were back home. But we did have one for the boys and one for the girls which were a very good distance apart. Tissue was the same as it was at home. We would have to carry our extra catalogs, paper bags and whatever. We had paper bag lunches until the bag was so greasy you could squeeze the grease off the bag. Mama would tell us we were going to use the bucket for lunch when the bags became useless. Sometimes if it was four or five siblings their lunch would be in a bucket. We had no way to warm it up and we didn’t know that the food was supposed to be warmed up (the food was good though). Sometimes when we got to school and trying to get warm someone would have wet the bed the night before and the teacher would make us stand back so they could dry out. No complaints from anyone. We wore under clothes made from outing. I think its flannel now, and we slept in our under clothes and wore them the next day. Nobody knew anything about having more than others. We did not know that we were poor, because everybody was in the same boat. I do the teacher had a first aid kit. I don’t know what all was in it, but I do know it was alcohol and iodine. So, we didn’t want to be treated with neither of them. Usually one little hug from the teacher cured everything. Now, my days at Ebenezer is over.

I’m attending Holly Springs (Beat 7). This school taught through 9th grade. It was a 4-rooms school with three teachers and a principle. The principal (Mr. F. D. Holley) had a house on the school grounds. He had a wife and three children. My what a change. The same discipline was practiced and worked great. The kids were larger and strangers to us. Mr. Holley was a preacher, every morning we had a thirty-minute devotion. Then we went to our classrooms. We rode a school bus. It had a row of seats or a bench down each side and a double down the center, so we could sit back to back. We could hardly get down the aisles but to us it was a luxury. The toilets at this school was a little bit more modern and larger. The building was much warmer and modern, we had lots of windows and a long hall on one side. The water still had to be brought from the spring. There was also the Holly Springs Baptist church near the school. When I was half way through the 5th grade I was promoted to the 6th grade, and at the end of the year I was promoted to the 7th grade. The 7th was a little hard, because somethings I should have gotten in the 6th grade was carried over two the 7th grade. So, it seemed like for a while I was carrying a double load. My time at the school was great. No one was suspended, expelled or put on probation. The principal surely carried them to the office and took care of things. Still only great for the principal and teachers. Now, for a little about me. Number one I was always afraid of almost everything. Very, very shy. Someone could speak to me I’d speak. If they asked. How’s your mama? I would burst out crying. Sounds a little retarded (doesn’t it?). I was always afraid of hounts. I never saw one, but it was a phobia I had until I was almost grown. I believe I was five or six when I really noticed airplanes and I was seriously afraid of them. I was sure if they flew over my head, they would fall on me. So, I would hide when I heard one. They didn’t fly very high and sometimes they would dip down, or I thought they did. The only good thing about that is I would only see them about twice a month. I had an old hound, or my daddy did, that was over protective of me and my siblings. If someone touched me, I would cry, and the dog would bite. It’s good they didn’t have the laws we have now, about your dog biting someone. Now, about the cars, afraid of them too. Not really the car but how we were picked on, back then I don’t think anyone had one but the white folks. Maybe some blacks that I didn’t know. If we were on the road walking, they would pretend to try to run us over, or they would hit water puddles in the road just to wet us up. They were mostly all fords A model and T model, I well. You could hear them two or three miles away, so I had plenty of time to hide. There were no such thing as paved roads. Only mud in the winter and dust in the summer. You could

get stuck on one of the main roads. The interesting thing about the cars back then, is I don’t think they had an ignition key or not. I do know they had something like a tire rod and would get in front of the car and turn that iron rod until the car cranked up. Sometimes the cars motor would go dead before you get in the car and they would have to get out and do it all again. By the times we walked or rode the wagon to church, everyone had to be dusted off.

Now, for our favorite holiday, “Easter”. That’s when we got that new pair of shoes, (and by Mother’s Day mine would be too little). But oh, the Easter eggs and that new dress was worth the wait. The little rabbit and baby chicks. You could not make me believe that rabbits were not hatched from the eggs. Finally, my daddy was turning up a new ground field and plowed up a bed of baby rabbits. He stopped his plowing until he could get me to the field and see them. What a sight those little naked, big head thing with their eyes closed was scary. I didn’t like Easter anymore, until I learned the true meaning of Easter. Then Christmas, Oh! How the holiday has changed. First, we washed our stockings, dried them by the fire, and hung them by the fireplace, before sundown, because we were told that if we were not a sleep when Santa come, he would put ashes in our eyes, or spit snuff in them. Only “God” kept us from smothering. Our beds always had so much covering on them, that we could barely turn over. Yet we packed the covers around our head as tightly as we could. After the sun was up on Christmas morning, we crawled out of bed to see what we had gotten. Three apples, three oranges, two huge sticks of peppermint, two sticks of horehound a few nuts. This had to be put in a paper bag, only the peppermint sticks and horehound would fit in the stockings. My sister and I got dolls and my brothers got B.B. guns. But we could not have been any happier.

Afterwards my oldest brother would say, “I bet old Santa Claus butt was hot when he hit that fire”. Yet, we still didn’t get it. Then on Christmas morning, and all throughout the day relatives and friends would come in and eat and visit. Fellowship and love flowed like a stream of water. I don’t if my mom and dad got anything at all. I don’t believe they did. Only a hug from each of us. Always before Christmas was hog killing time. The ground would be so white with frost, it looked like snow. My daddy would announce at night that we had to get up early and get wood for the wash pot and get the water hot for cleaning

the hog. I stayed inside until after the rifle fired. I never wanted to see one of our hogs killed. By the time I got there it was dragged up to the hang place. I would be outside. I never missed seeing them cut the throat of the hog. Then it was doused with that boiling hot water, and we began to scarp the hair off. We always had plenty of help and before long the hog was hung again to be gutted. The women had the wash tub clean to catch the liver and intestines. Of course, the men made sure to get the gall off the liver. Then the intestines were ours to work with (chitterlings). Oh, my goodness we had to untwist them, and start pouring water in one end slushing it around good and letting it come out of the other end. This chore took a long time and it was a cold unpleasant task. All this time the men were getting the hogs shoulders, ribs, backbone, and middling’s separated. By this time mama would have fixed 4 or 5 bags of liver and tenderloins to send to the neighbors. This not only went for hog meat. Whoever had chicks to hatch and got to be fryers, they sent fryers around to friends. Also, fresh corn, string beans, cabbage and whatever they had. This way with the hog everyone had fresh meat for Christmas. Next was New Year, watch meeting it was a must. I never liked it because I was sleepy headed always went to sleep fell off the bench, cried loud, and got a good spanking in church. So, until today, I can’t figure out what they were watching for. I didn’t know anything about resolutions, so that one lie I didn’t tell. But, my mama had so many “no wash” days in the New Year. I don’t them now, but it was lots of them. This covers most of my young days. Now in 1943 we moved from Tuscaloosa County to Saint Clair county, my daddy’s home.

I was in the 9th grade, and I guess that was one of the saddest times of my life. Just the thought of leaving my friends, cousins, and teachers was very hard. One of my best friends said that she thought we could still get out on the hill and holler at each other. When we moved, we moved in my grandma’s house with my daddy’s brother and his family. It was a big house with a hall that had no doors there was two rooms on one side and two room and a kitchen on the other side. We were on the side with the kitchen. They started building our house immediately and, in a few months, it was finished. It was just a little way from my uncle. So, life got normal, and it was time to get in school. I liked school, from the very first day. Of course, most of my classmates were older, not much, but they couldn’t accept me being only thirteen years old. I was very tall for my age. But there was one girl that was two months older than me. So, we bonded quick. The school here, was a Jr. and Senior High school, Saint Clair County

Training. We still had the outside toilets, and I don’t where we got the water. But I know there wasn’t any plumbing. I united with the Mt. Hillary Baptist Church, under the pastorate of Rev. S. L. Woods. My entire school years were very pleasant. We graduated the largest class recorded, 1966-1967. Of course, student from Acmar and Margaret were transported to Pell City. I believe there was twenty-seven. In 1948-1949 I attended Stillman College in Tuscaloosa, Al. I dropped out, because my parents didn’t have the funds for me to continue, (no student loans or grants). I was sorry and disappointed, but I did understand.

In 1950, I married Charlie Darnell Green a native of Marion, Al. Perry County. He had three beautiful children two boys, one girl and two step children. The children’s mother was deceased. The baby girl was two years old. My husband and I had six children. Two died in infancy. We also had two nieces. My husband step children went to live with their maternal grandmother. So, we raised nine children. Gosh, what a big happy family. They all finished high school, some made careers, all didn’t. During the time of raising the children, I went to Pono Beauty School, and earned a license in cosmetology. The children that were not old enough for school, was kept by my mother. This was 1960. The family had five boys and four girls. The older three boys were soldiers in the Vietnam conflict. The time there destroyed the oldest one. He saw and shot enemies the rest of his life. The oldest girl became a nurse. The others just worked and earned independent living.

That was their upbringing, “You have to work”. My husband was a veteran also, in World War 2. After the war he was employed at A.A.D Anniston Army Depot. After the kids was grown, I started working in the Textile Mills. My husband retired from A.A.D. I retired from Crown Textile. Even though I had retired, I Did not stop working. I went into Health Care work. Finally, at 79, I quit.

In 2011, our oldest son ed, he left one daughter and a wife. In 2013, I lost my youngest son. He was not married. No, regrets, because the climax of living is death. It is the only thing that we can be sure of. I’ve hesitated for a few years to write this, then I decided I should. It is not for fame or name. My hope is that

if you read it, you can be glad for your blessings and I hope one can get an understanding that maybe everything that look good or sound good, is not good. Let’s always that we are not keeper of ourselves, there is a higher figure. There were lots and lots of years before my time, and I’m sure that the times were bad. But from my personal experience my generation was some of the best times. From the mid-fifties until now. I can feel the bad times are upon us. Parents can’t discipline their own children; teachers are afraid to give a crying child a big hug. Neighbors or even relatives can’t chastise children. So, what do we have now? Kids acting like parents, will not take time to pull up their clothes properly, ordering what they want to eat and wear. I wonder what role the parents are playing now. Our school books change after so many years, even new words are added to the dictionary, encyclopedias are updated. All of this is the knowledge that “God” has given to man, and I am truly grateful for it.

I am 84 years old now, and I urge every one to reach back to the very beginning, read the bible, try to keep the doctrines, love everybody, pray for each other, and give “God” all the glory. May God bless the entire world, because everybody and everything here belongs to him.

GALLERY