It Only Seems Like Yesterday

By Odis Stephenson

These Stories are based on the author’s personal experience of growing up as a tenant farmer’s son in North Carolina. Their straightforward style reflects the author’s own memories of his boyhood. The Authors says, “If this book brings joy to any one for just a moment, if it takes someone back to a simpler time, back to t

• Language: English
• Publisher: URLink Print & Media, LLC
• Release date: Nov 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643675343

Odis Stephenson

I am Odis Stephenson; I have been a Deputy Sheriff for 33 years. I was born on a small farm in North Carolina and raised by loving parents. I grew up in a great environment which was my inspiration in raising my son, Derek. He was the fruit of our love with my wife Lizzie Rambeaut Stephenson. We were married for 42 years until she passed away in 2011; Liz was my strength and my life. I loved her with all my heart. I am now a grandfather of 3. Katie, Kyle and Ryan, they are raised by their father Derek and his wife Carrie wonderfully. They show kindness and decency to everyone they met. I was so blessed to meet a wonderful woman who makes my life better from New York, Jannert Griffin. Her smile warms my heart and I hope we'll have many years to come. I am in a great place right now, it couldn't be better.

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It Only Seems Like Yesterday

Copyright © 2019 by Odis Stephenson. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

The opinions expressed by the author are not necessarily those of URLink Print and Media.

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Published in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-64367-535-0 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64367-534-3 (Digital)

18.04.19

CONTENTS

Introduction

Tobacco Harvest

The Store

Leon

Church

Bessie

The Faded Bonnet

Uncle Walter

Winter Work

Miss Ellen

The Rabbit

The Christmas House

Mommy

The Talk

Mac

The Whipping

The Rocket Ball

The Fighter

The Belle of the Ball

The Garbage Man

Button

The Hunter

The Locker

About the Author

This book is dedicated to the memory of my loving wife Liz, my son Richard Derek who grew into the man I had hoped for. I also would like to name the joy of my life my grand children Katie, Kyle, and Ryan, also the memory of my parents.

INTRODUCTION

My name is Odis Gay Stephenson, and in the following stories I intend to describe a life of hard times, hard work and a loving family. My stories are unlike many others in that they don’t dwell on greed, power or wealth. These are true and happy stories. They tell of my family, and of our country life.

My father was always my guide in life. He used to tell me, Never ask anything from anyone, always be self-sufficient and take care of home above all things. When you tell somebody something, stick to it. His passing in 1979 left a void in my life that will never be filled.

My mother was so gentle; she was like a flower that would wither in a cold wind. She died when I was a little boy. She loved the flowers, and she loved me, as she did all my brothers and sisters.

My family consisted of three boys and three girls. Wilma is the oldest. She and her husband Hubert raised three boys and a girl, Steve, Ronnie, Greg and Regina. Hubert died several years ago. Wilma has remarried, and she seems to be quite happy. Wilma is very religious and her children have all turned out to be good people.

Bobby was my oldest brother. Bobby had a drinking problem brought on by the breaking up of his marriage. Bobby raised a fine boy, Robbie, who now has a family of his own.

Norma, my sister, is a free spirit in many ways. She married Roy Cates, Jr., when she was a young girl, and their honeymoon lasted thirty-seven years. Her life revolved around her family, Junior and her two children. Teresa, her daughter, grew into a fine young lady. Gary her son died young, and her husband died several years ago, but Norma will always make it, because she’s cut from that kind of cloth.

Glen, my brother, is blind in one eye, but he’s never let that handicap bother him at all. Glen is a very religious man and well respected in his community. He and his wife, Alicia, had one son, Roger, who was a very gifted artist, but he died young.

If there has ever been a Christian in the world, my sister Sue is it. Her whole life she has surrounded herself with people that she cared for. Sue’s got the most love of any person I’ve ever seen.

Then there’s Bessie. Bessie is the oldest living person in our family. She’s crippled, and she’s in a wheelchair, but her fighting spirit still dwells within her. I love her very dearly.

The last entry onto the family scene was my own. I’ve been very lucky to have a family like this, and now I, too, have a family of my own. My wife, Lizzie Rambeaut Stephenson, is a kind and gentle lady whom I love more than anything else. On February 28, 1974, she gave birth to our son, Richard Derek Stephenson. He has brought more joy into our lives than I can imagine. How fortunate I am, and how lucky I’ve been to have a family like mine.

TOBACCO HARVEST

My father Odie Stephenson was not an extremely large man, but he was very powerful for a man of his size. His strength came from fifty-odd years of hard work. The work he did would have killed an average man, and the deep, crusted lines in his face were a permanent testimony to his hard life. He was not a very well-educated man; he only went as far as the seventh grade. My father was a man of few words, but when he spoke, people listened, because they respected him.

The year of 1963 was a very important one for me. I was twelve years old, and, according to my father, I was old enough to work. My job was to drive the tractors for the men who primed the tobacco in the fields. The rest of my family each had their own job. Sue, my older sister, was a looper. The looper tied the tobacco to the sticks so they could be hung in the barns for curing. My Aunt Bessie was a hander. She had to hand the tobacco to Sue. Arlene, my stepmother, was also a hander. My older two sisters, Wilma and Norma, helped out, too. Though I was only twelve years old, I worked like a man each day.

Each morning during harvesting time would begin the same way. Daddy would tell me to gas up the tractors and go get the primers. The primers stayed in a pack barn we’d fixed up as a little rooming house for them. I always enjoyed this job. After all, I didn’t get much sleep, so why should they?

Darn, I hate this time of year, I said as I drove to the pack house, I’ll bet those guys are still asleep. As I pulled up to the pack house I yelled, Let’s go, fellows, we got two barns to fill up.

The primers came down the creaking steps for the dusty ride to the field. The men who we hired to harvest tobacco had to be able to stand the hard work and intense heat. They had to be able to work from six in the morning to seven at night. As I looked at the primers get into the trailer, I felt a lot of respect for these men.

Leon was the field boss over the primers. Leon was a young black man from Durham, who had worked for us for several years. He went to college in the winter at North Carolina A & T University. Beside him was Cleveland, Leon’s brother. He, too, was a college man and had also helped us a number of years. Then there were two young high school boys, Mike and David.

I think you get earlier every morning, Leon said.

Do you call six o’clock early? I joked.

How many more days do you think it’ll take? Mike asked.

I believe we can get done in about two, I answered.

I tell you this, I’ll be glad when it’s over. David said. Summer’s almost gone, and I did want to have some free time.

Just think of it this way, I said. Two more days and we’re through. Then we’ll have the cookout, and you’re home for the rest of the summer.

I’ll be damn glad, too, David said.

Me, too, Leon added.

This morning was the same as all the others –– hot. The sun shone down on our bare backs. The smell of green tobacco, plus our own sweat, made a shower at day’s end something to look forward to.

Boy, will I be glad when ten comes, Leon said. Those Cokes will be good today.

They sure will, I replied.

We worked hard that morning, and sure enough by ten Daddy came with the Cokes. We’ll finish by dinner time tomorrow at this rate, he said. You’re really doing a good job. I told the rest of the farmers at the store that I got as good a field crew as there is.

We try, I grinned.

‘We try’! Hell, I’m the field boss, Leon said with a grin.

"I know, but I’m the owner’s son, so I’m responsible for keeping you clowns on your