Old Opinionated Eyeglasses

By Virgia Lee Mills

A lifetime of lesson sparks deep reflections on the social economic states of African Americans in Pickett.

In a raw and heartfelt exploration of past experiences, the author sheds light on how modern-day trends differ sharply from old-school practices. Delving into topics from housing to civil rights, she offers a refreshing lens from which to view historical changes to her Northside neighborhood of Jacksonville, affectionately called Pickett by area residents.

In hope of bettering the area's current condition, lifetime Jacksonville resident Mills highlights the beauty and pain of living in rural Florida in the 1960s and beyond. Enjoy this exceptional memoire about changing seasons of life, which are woven into a fabric of familial relationships and stories about hardworking neighbors who look out for one another.

22

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798886163339

Book preview

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Old Opinionated Eyeglasses

Virgia Lee Mills

ISBN 979-8-88616-332-2 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88616-333-9 (digital)

Copyright © 2022 by Virgia Lee Mills

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Author's Note

Acknowledgments

Old Opinionated Glasses

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

Health Care

About the Author

To my children and grandchildren, whom I love with all my heart. They enjoy listening to my siblings and I speak about our adventuresome childhood in Jacksonville, Florida's Northside Pickett neighborhood.

Author's Note

The view is unique, and thoughts filter through the lens of experiences of the forgotten history of yesteryear. I have noticed that when I reach for these old glasses while writing in my journal, my memory is awakened. Something about these unique glasses gives me a broader view of various aspects of my life and the realm in which I live. From the time of childhood, my life intertwined with the historic and sometimes tragic events in America. In my lifetime, I have seen the post-war era, civil rights struggles, modern capitalism, technological advancements, market crashes, and the first Black president, Barack Obama. Take a stroll with me through history and my Jacksonville neighborhood called Pickett. Through time, travel capsule and a series of events noted as old-school times have changed from what I see, think, and believe today. Comparing my era to this current century, Black communities are experiencing significant improvements in housing, health, and educational systems. Economic success is up for grabs to anyone willing to commit to respect the law, engage in a specific study, or trade along with consistent labor. Shifting and transformation occur, but my memory and its life lessons have ingrafted valuable tools.

Acknowledgments

Iwould like to acknowledge Aminah Paden for being the creative fire I needed to move forward in completing this memoir. Thank you for your editorial development. To my daughters (Macey and Tracey) who helped see this project to fruition, I am so grateful. Thank you, God, for a lifetime of blessings.

Old Opinionated Glasses

The glasses I wear are unique and dazzling to the eyes,

Oh yes, I picked them to express the who am I.

A woman of strength and endurance struggles.

I am looking up with faith and life experience to recognize doubles

My parents, Beura and Jewel Seward, were very playful, impactful, and spiritual.

Yes, giving me insight, to which is a loving sign continual

Wow! Remembering the Jacksonville neighborhood called Pickett, my lenses will not let me miss the use of drinking from a water pump or spicket

These old eyes have seen a transformation in the communities

But today everyone is to him or herself; there appears to be no unity in our neighborhoods to breathe

Now when you read my memoir of truth,

Know that this history is that from my youth

It was between the fifties and now which I reflect

Comparing the changes of cause and effect

—WoWTwin

1

Iwas born to Beura and Jewel Seward in 1948. My dad was born in Georgia, and Mom was from Alabama. I had four older siblings: Thomas Rouse, Pearlie Mae Rouse, James Kelly, and Chiffon Kelly (Jones). I was my father's oldest child. My younger siblings are Malinda, Willie-Ola (deceased), Jeremiah, Harriett, Samuel, and Minnie. Now take a historical journey with community frames and childhood lenses of my experience in the place called Pickett.

One of my first memories is watching my mother pick cotton in Pinetta, Florida, in the early 1950s. I was only four years old, but the sight of Mom picking cotton in the hot, stifling sun is etched in my mind forever. I see it just as clearly today as when I sat in the field holding my baby brother. Mom always brought me along to babysit. I would watch her moving down the rows to pick the soft, white fibers. She would place the lint from the cotton plant in the bag, which hung loosely across her body. Her clothes were often wet with perspiration from the sweltering weather and hours of monotonous, painstaking work.

In those days, a manual cotton picker would harvest hundreds of pounds of cotton a day. I would watch as the bag Mom carried became heavier and heavier as the day wore on. Since most cotton plants are only three-feet tall, the plants are too short for pickers to stand upright. She had to bend over to pull the lint away from the plant. It was exhausting, dirty work. Mom did not complain to me, though. When those vivid memories of my mother picking cotton return to me, I am in wonder at how my parents sacrificed and how far my family has come since those early days of my youth.

In the fifties, Pickett was an all-Black neighborhood east of Old Kings Road. During my formative years, our home was on Mattox Avenue in the area. Our family was known throughout Pickett by the surname the Sewards. The house my father rented sat so high off the ground that we sometimes crawled beneath the house to play. From the corner, we could see all the neighbors' comings and goings. In my parents' home, a huge, wooden, handmade table stood in the middle of the dining room. It was large enough to hold all the children and our guests, which often included cousins. With three bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen, it was the largest home we lived in. It came with an outdoor toilet, which was behind the house, near the fence at the far end of the yard. By pushing a steel lever up and down to get water from a pump outside the rear door, our family had water with which to wash.

My dad, Beura Seward, was a quiet man. He worked in the dairy industry until 1957, when he became disabled from problems with his liver. On the weekends, he would go to get himself a little something to drink. After a taste of alcohol, he would want to talk and dance. Dad would even cook. He loved to make flapjacks from scratch. After mixing them and flipping them until they were ready, he'd serve the most delicious meal. My siblings and I stood around the kitchen, eager to eat again. We would devour our father's offering with syrup and sausages, which he included to complete the meal.

Dad loved to buy snacks when he and I went shopping together. We would gather the snacks in the cart first because goodies took top priority. That is the reason I keep snacks in my pantry today. We would normally have a bag of oranges in the house. Some nights, our dad would sit and peel oranges. As the children gathered around him on the floor, Dad would slowly peel and slice the oranges for us eager, gazing kids sitting just below his knees. I am amazed by how long one orange lasted with seven children gazing hungrily at Dad's hands. My dad had that kind of patience to peel oranges and slice apples to give us slices as a snack. My dad emphasized snacks, which took priority. If we accompanied Dad to the store, we would walk away with peanuts, Cracker Jack, and a bag of oranges. My