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40437Picking Cotton

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  • Mary Ann Wisian
    Oct 1, 2008
      My Dad (who was first generation of Czech immigrants), grew up in Texas farming along with his brothers on the family farm.  They grew cotton among other things.  After WWII, my dad got married and started his family (me). It seems all my life (up until he died in 1990) he farmed.  His main livelihood was being a mechanic, but after hours and on weekends, he farmed.  He would farm his brothers land and he leased land and he even bought lots in an addition where we were going to build our new home and farmed that too.  Of course at home, we always had a garden.  When he retired, he had a garden and fruit trees and planting was in his veins.  His mother won blue ribbons at the county fair for her flowers she raised.  One year when I was about 8 or 9, he had planted cotton and corn on leased land and we were all supposed to go out and pick this cotton.  My grandma made us some cotton pickin' bags (made out of canvas).  Mine was smaller, because I was too little to pull a big bag.  I didn't much care for picking cotton and it was soooo hot.  I remember we kept praying for it to rain so we could leave.  And it did!  We were screaming and running to the car so we could all go home.  Whew!
      I also remember my parents doing a lot of canning and freezing.  We always had fruit and vegetables to eat.  The pickles were my dad's specialty.  He had a little formula he always used to make garlic dill pickles with a  little zip.  He would always put in the little chili pequines to give the dills a zip.  One thing I know about my dad, he was always so proud of what he grew.  Believe me, I have pictures to prove it; lots of them.  He made sure to send them to me.  My biggest regret is that I didn't learn from him how to do it all.  We always realize what we had once it's gone.
       
      Mary Ann Wisian
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