Sharecropper’s Daughter

Just like many (Read more…) other places in the south, Southwest Arkansas’ tough and rocky terrain yielded an abundance of cotton in the 1930s and 40s. But it also yielded a tough culture of people, whose values were as unwavering as their determination. They and their families were known as sharecroppers. Though the day of the sharecroppers and their place in Arkansas has long passed, a few of those who played a part in that system of yesteryear still remain with us—along with their stories. And though many of their stories are interesting from an agricultural and historical perspective, it’s the life lessons that are perhaps most valuable, and now needed more than ever in a society that sometimes seems to be shrinking back from determination, hard work, and rugged individualism.

One dear lady who not only witnessed this passing lifestyle of tenant farmers but played a role in it herself (just before the door of that era closed shut) was my own mother, Lenora McWilliams. My sister, my brother, and I grew up hearing her stories, which were rich with witty sayings, humorous anecdotes, laughter—and most importantly—lessons about life. Though my siblings and I were brought up with a far more “comfortable” lifestyle than mama, her stories left is feeling like we may have “missed out” on something special. Not in a regretful way, but in a way that causes us to better reflect on the life we do now enjoy while making sure we don’t “miss out” on the better things right around us. This is why we wanted our mama to put her memories in a book so that others could benefit, too. A “primer” so to speak, of true happiness amid hard times.

After long days of remembering and writing, we’re happy to say that her recollections of a special time gone by are now available in her book entitled “A Sharecropper’s Daughter” by Lenora McWilliams. For purchasing, just go to Amazon. (As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.)

Here’s an excerpt from the book:

“…we grew most of what we ate. Money was too scarce, and my daddy was very frugal. He was the one who made the decisions for the family’s spending. Usually, when we asked for something from the store, he reminded us that he was desperately trying to save enough money to buy us a “forever home” so that we would never have to move again.

Families like ours didn’t make many purchases at the store, therefore, we didn’t accumulate piles of “stuff” to be moved when Daddy said to pack up. We only had plain beds, one homemade wooden eating table, three or four straight-back wooden chairs, and a wooden bench as long as the table that seated at least three children when we all came to breakfast, dinner, and supper. We also had a big cook stove that required building a wood fire in its belly early every morning so we could cook some good smokehouse ham and eggs and lots off biscuits to fill our bellies. What few clothes we had were used to cushion the breakable dishes when we packed. With all the family helping, we could pack up and be on the road again in about three hours. It was difficult trying to get a bunch of kids placed safely on the wagon. The big kids had to hold or watch us little ones. I was always sad to leave our old house, but it was exciting to get to a new place and explore the surroundings as quickly as we could.

Venturing around [the yard of our new home] in weeds almost as high as my head, I felt something sharp beneath my bare foot. Looking down I saw a piece of something very pretty, like a treasure I had never seen before. When I lifted it up, I was gazing at the face and part of the head of an old China doll. I ran inside to show Clyde, but he was busy raking up trash to make room for the furniture coming on the next wagon load. He hardly noticed what I had in my hand. I closed my fist gently around her and hoped I could keep her. The next day as soon as I awoke, I started blabbing to my whole family about my doll and Daddy said, “Whatever you dream on the first night in a new house will come true if you tell it before breakfast”.
I said, “But Daddy, I didn’t dream this!” Then I opened my hand and showed him my doll head. It was about the size of a hickory nut. He looked it over and remarked how pretty it was.
Later that same day the older boys were assigned the job of cleaning out an old shed out behind the house so it could be used to store tools. As I was hanging around watching, I spied a little cloth tobacco sack that had been left behind by the former tenants. It had no monetary value, but it gave me a splendid idea. I searched for a stuffing for my bag. My family was surprised when I showed them my real “Dolly”. I had poked some old cotton remnants in the tobacco sack and placed its drawstring around her neck and tied it. Now she really was a doll, the only one I ever had.”