The Cotton Fields

By Ernestine Dodson Whitfield

"The Cotton Fields" is Ms. Whitfield's fourth book. A well written story of farm life in rural Mississippi. Circa 1940 through 1950. Written with great insight into rural life at the time in our history. Filled throughout with wit and humor. You will follow the Blakney Family on their many everyday adventures. Never, will there be a dull moment. It is Ms. Whitfield's wish that you enjoy the stories and tales of THE COTTON FIELDS as much as she enjoyed the writing of them. Complimented throughout with poetry, written solely by Ms. Whitfield.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496903433

Ernestine Dodson Whitfield

Ernestine Whitfield is a poet and a prose writer. The fourth novel is titled "Mississippi Girl". She has battled cancer three times and has survived three heart attacks. While recovering from heart surgery, she began her literary career at the age of fifty-five. She has written four books in the last two decades. All of her books are motivational. "When the Morning Comes," her second novel, was a huge success. Ms. Whitfield writes with wit and humor, sprinkled with a dash of southern wisdom. There is never a dull moment. Many people will enjoy "Mississippi Girl" for many years to come.

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© 2014 Ernestine Dodson Whitfield. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  04/09/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-0315-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-0343-3 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

The Cotton Field Prayer

Son Of Man

Big Bang

My America

The Terriost Act

Satan Still Lives

In Gods Image

Not Alone

Beaulah Land

My Mountains

Searching For Alien Life

Somewhere In Time

Time

I Wish To Live Forever

Home For The Soul

The Dark Valley

I Believe

God Did You Weep

Keeping Watch

Fear Of Dying

Light Of Day

Renewal Of Life

Memories

The Greyhound Moves On

Home Remembered

Back To The Hills

Acceptance

Those Days Are Gone

In My Heart Only

Scenes From The Past

Family

Dad

Billy

Momma

My Parents Remembered

Angels Guide Me

The Guardians

Angels On My Mind

Maia

Eva

Special thanks to my friends Judy Purcell, Helen Scutt and Gloria Costello. Without their constantly asking, when my next book was coming out. This book would not have come to its final conclusion. For all the girls at bingo, I DID IT

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The Cotton Field Prayer

Down in Mississippi this child was born

far back in the hills on my fathers farm

Life wasn’t easy for this farmers child

Working in the fields, was a way of life

Chopping that cotton from dawn til’ dusk

Covered head to toe in that red clay dust

The catfish a’ jumping in ol’ yeller creek

We closed our eyes tried hard not to weep

Leaning, hard against that despicable hoe

Looking to heaven, this prayer we chose

Our Omniscient Creator, King of Kings

please God of mercy, send down that rain

People drove by the fields from miles away

just to watch in awe as the children prayed

A moment of quiet then a boom and a bang

The Lord God Almighty sent down that rain

Just goes to show when you earnestly pray

the merciful Creator sends help your way

I am of Baptist faith by my own free will

I learned how to pray in ‘them’ cotton fields.

In the beginning God created Man. Then, God placed Man in the Garden of Eden. So wrote the unknown Author of Genesis. My humble beginning was on fathers forty acre farm in Tishomingo County. Way back deep in those hills and hollows North East Mississippi.

On this small workin farm, my father grew cotton and corn. From the early forties, until the late fifties I lived on this small farm. Worked side by side with my family every day for eighteen years. I can tell you quite litterally, there was no Garden of Eden anywhere near those miserable cotton fields. Only row after row of that crabgrass infected, cotton plant.

My family worked from early dawn until after dusk, in those hot, Mississippi cotton fields. Breathing into our lungs, that red clay dust, with every breath we took. After inhaling this ‘red clay dust’ for hours on end, you became absolutely raving mad. Plumb sick of the red stuff matter of fact. All this red dust flying about came from your frenzied, vigorous most, intense chopping away at that stubborn and tough ol’ crabgrass. Someone observing this rabid maniacal behavior, would think you were completely raving mad. Only you knew, that all the blooming stress you were under was simply caused by the creepy, never ending, tough ol’ crab grass. Your weird behavior was very simple to explain. You see, it was because of that gosh darn, god forsaken patch of despicable crab grass overgrown cotton plants. It was a vicious circle. You couldn’t ever let your guard down not for one blessed second. At least not until that bcotton field was completely free of that ol’crab grass.

We tried every preventive measure, that you could possibly think of, so as not to inhale that red clay demon from hell. My brother, and I, even tried not breathing for long spells at a time! Folks as you can well imagine this, not breathing idea, never worked. At least not for very long. For of course you would eventually be forced to expel the dust from your poor swollen and aching lungs. Also during this expelling process, your poor lungs were discharging nothing less mind you but that red clay blood. Just merely thinking about this awful calamity, the lasting effects it may have on your poor body! Well folks this, ‘mind boggling revelation,’ would cause you to have, a doggie distemper fit. You, are now acting sorta’ like an ol’ hound dog scratching constantly at his worrisome fleas. Your, inadequate, most pitiful thoughts now go absolutely haywire. Suddenly you get it! You just may not survive this bloody, coughing and spitting spell. Really concerned now. You now turn of course to the Almight God. Knowing you need His merciful help to save you! Please dear God, you would most earnestly pray, what, please Jesus, have I done dear Lord, that I deserve this terrible and god awful, punishment? Please folks, dont criticize so harshly, you must remember it was only a cotton field prayer.

We children were very young at the time, it took us a few years to get the prayers down to an exact science. Learn to pray, like our prayerful Dad. By the time each child had reached the age, of say twelve, they had the praying down. Most could even out pray the poor preacher. My brother recieved many a knuckle thump on the head for this very thing. Without ever being called on to do so, Billy would simply stand up in church, that face looking just like an angel, and recite word for word all of Dads favorite prayers. Our Aunt Minnie would say one of her own, as soon as she saw my little brother Billy, rise up from that pew! But, I gotta say folks, he was pretty good. That boy was practicing for later in life! He did all this practicing, when he was just a snip of a lad. And folks, he wound up Deacon of the church a few years later. Wow! Shows persistance does pays off!

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I can personally tell you folks, It wasn’t easy just barely surviving on that farm. Day to day it was always rough sailing. A dirt farmer with five motherless children to rear, as you can well imagine, could be more than a little rough at times. I can tell you from personal experience, some days, it could be downright degrading, at least to this little southern girl. Like going to school in a dress made from ‘floral cow feed feed sacks. Knowing that people surely recognized the ‘material.’ Then, there was your panties made from ten pound ‘sugar sacks.’ Mama trimmed pretty sack dresses with fancy store bought lace and a whole lot of fancy rickrack of many different pastel colors. Our prett little ‘sugar sack’ panties, Momma trimmed these with lace also. I never felt needy. For all the girls in that ‘Lambert Chapel’ elementary school wore pretty much the same as me. There were possibly a hand full that may have had some Calico from Mis’Ruth Floyds store in town. But was only a handful believe me. There, was one little girl that wore store bought as I remember. She was what you would call, a’kissing cousin’ of ours. After third or fourth cousin, they were fair game back in the hills in those days.

Dad alway’s watched out for his children. I was never allowed to date a boy, before my dad had met him first. I had to wait until I left home and went to Chicago to finally find a boy I could marry with ease. It was there I met this young man from Oklahoma. Feeling safe at last, I up and married the poor fellow. Bless his heart. Never knew what hit him. Don’t misunderstand me here folks for I am most proud of my ‘Southern’ heritage. Most honored to be the daughter of one particular farmer from the hills of North East Mississippi.

I have never forgotten for one moment the family values my dear mother and father instilled into my heart and even deeper in my soul as I grew to adulthood on that forty acre farm. Without even realizing it at the time, my life was being formed for always and forever back then in those beloved whippoorwill hills of the deep south. I have tried my very best, all in remembrance of my caring and loving parents, to pass on these family values to my five children and my twelve littl grandchildren.

Teaching today’s children, respect for anyone or anything, is an on going daily struggle for the working parents of today’s Global Society. We must not let ourselves be to dismayed, as we observe the heart wrenching breakdown in our family values. We must instead, continue to teach our precious children the same respect for family and country that our parents taught us. For these family values that worked so well for many past generations will work in today’s global society also. For they came from our deep faith and trust in God, family and our beloved Country, the United States of America!

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On that little ‘forty acre’ farm down in the deep rural South where I lived for eighteen years, there was no electricity. No inside/outside plumbing at all! Yep folks that’s what I said. I know, tis’ hard to believe! We did have this battery powered radio that served its purpose well. My oldest sister Lorene, played that RCA radio from the time she awoke in the morning until she went to bed late at night. I remember hearing the country music crooner Jim Reeves, singing ‘Hello Walls’ at least a million times or more. The entire family tuned in daily to listen to the Lone Ranger show, with his Indian sidekick Tonto. And you can’t forget for one moment, that awesome white horse Silver.

When I close my eyes I can picture today that beautiful white stallion on of that hill. His feet reaching up into the sky. The Lone Range sitting straight tall in that saddle. This made you think of the ancient Greek god Apollo! Oh well it did for me. Then the Lone Ranger would utter those four magical words, that we had waited through the entire program just to hear. Hi Yo Silver Away! Made our day almost perfect. Yep, them ol’ cotton fields, weren’t so bad after all. Not aslong as you had the Lone Ranger and Tonto riding right there beside you tall in the saddle. The rest of that work day for me and my little brother Billy and me for sure, was Kemo Sabe a okay. While our eyes searched the distant hill lookingfor Silver to take us far away. Please, we day dreamed, any place on earth besides the blooming cotton fields.

God has given us these precious memories of days gone by. Saved in our memory bank for all time to come. Life can get more than a little uninteresting as you reach retirement age. The now weakened eyes that come with age, can’t see as clearly as they once did. The now bone weary feet, will never again take you to those far away places they did in the past. A time, that now seems so very long ago. God was aware of