Black People : Bride uses Jesus to deflect criticism after attaching newborn baby to train of her wedding dress.
- Thread starter skuderjaymes
- Start date
- Replies 84
- Views 10K
- Apr 2, 2011
- 1,333
- 961
You dead wrong...this man is upset, but we may not all agree...that is to be expected. Your get on your knees and bend over...is wayyyy over the top. You bogus and you taking it too far. Was it really necessary....you ain't got no other ways to express yourself? Telling another brother to get on his knees and bend over.....really? That's how you role? It ain't even that serious. You should be ashamed as a Christian.Whine, whine, whine.... wah!
Oh! Oh! Hodee. I was just joshing when I registered. I'm really a..... man!
Now get on your knees and bend over....
I get it though, on these message boards...sometimes your emotions can cause you to do the most...been there, done that. Doesn't make it right though, get your emotions in check. It takes practice, and patience, but it can be done...it HAS been done.
- Feb 4, 2013
- 806
- 523
she is exercising her will by discussing her points aggressively on a messageboard which is created for discussion of topics... which includes a baby fastened to a train of a wedding gown. While using her experience as one which raised children to express her position as to the possible harm of the newborn and her anger at the ones which watched.
I think we all are in agreement that we are collectively happy that they are married.. and that the baby at this time is unharmed
- Jul 2, 2003
- 5,998
- 1,025
Mama Queen Art Print On Canvas 18 x 24 - Annie Lee
http://www.annieleegifts.com/servlet/the-203/Mama-Queen-Art-Print/Detail
When was it OK to drag a baby on a rag, or burlap bag? History and Symbolism. In order to conquer an issue, you must first acknowledge it's existence, view and study it, then address the issue. Not knowing the outcome,What ever the outcome, the issue's impact will minimize or be ( fixed ) resolved.
The story and the reason given by the couple I know was not the idea, or the real reason. Most of the truth is in what the coordinator stated. The idea was from the above piece of art. It doesn't fly well, if when asked. " Why would you drag your child behind you, for a wedding or otherwise"?
That is not something a loving mother would not do. But loving mothers in history suffered having to do such as that. Look at it, it cant be denied. While I may not know all of the reasons, and I have not fully conceived the concept and any symbolism it does hold. I do know the meaning and reason for doing it is their own. I respect that!
I like many are not conformist and conformers are like sheep.
Go along to get along. Is conforming.
Agreeing to be liked is conforming.
No harm, no foul... and if your having trouble with open Conscientiousness ( controlled by or done according to one's inner sense of what is right ) thinking.
I have some stuff in the closet, that can be puffed on.
http://www.annieleegifts.com/servlet/the-203/Mama-Queen-Art-Print/Detail
When was it OK to drag a baby on a rag, or burlap bag? History and Symbolism. In order to conquer an issue, you must first acknowledge it's existence, view and study it, then address the issue. Not knowing the outcome,What ever the outcome, the issue's impact will minimize or be ( fixed ) resolved.
The story and the reason given by the couple I know was not the idea, or the real reason. Most of the truth is in what the coordinator stated. The idea was from the above piece of art. It doesn't fly well, if when asked. " Why would you drag your child behind you, for a wedding or otherwise"?
That is not something a loving mother would not do. But loving mothers in history suffered having to do such as that. Look at it, it cant be denied. While I may not know all of the reasons, and I have not fully conceived the concept and any symbolism it does hold. I do know the meaning and reason for doing it is their own. I respect that!
I like many are not conformist and conformers are like sheep.
Go along to get along. Is conforming.
Agreeing to be liked is conforming.
No harm, no foul... and if your having trouble with open Conscientiousness ( controlled by or done according to one's inner sense of what is right ) thinking.
I have some stuff in the closet, that can be puffed on.
- Jul 2, 2003
- 5,998
- 1,025
Blacks picked cotton well up into the 1950's.
Cotton Picking Time
I grew up in a community called Blow Gourd, on Sand Mountain, near Pisgah, Alabama. Every year in September my memory goes back to a job I had every Fall.
I picked cotton to earn money for school clothes and books from the time I was ten until I got out of school. I know most people who picked cotton would rather forget the experience, but I really enjoy thinking about my life in that period in the 1950’s. This was a time when my family was together and happy and a time I was taught valuable lessons in work ethics and gained and kept an appreciation for the easy job and life I have today.
The majority of the farms on Sand Mountain where I grew up were small family owned and the cotton could be picked by the members of the family. But the larger farmers with small families would hire other families to pick their cotton crops. Daddy wasn’t a farmer and drove a truck hauling logs and lumber for the local saw mill owners and this gave my family the opportunity to hire out to pick cotton for other farmers. Sometimes he hauled cotton to the gin after it was picked.
Picking cotton is back breaking work because you have to stay bent over at the waist dragging a sack behind you with 60 or 70 pounds of cotton in it all day. Those people that had weak backs had to crawl along the cotton rows on their knees because they couldn’t stay bent over all day.
Cotton grows inside a round ball about the size of a golf ball called a cotton boll until it matures. In early Fall the bolls began to open exposing the locks of cotton. After the boll opens and dries it is called a cotton burr and has about 4 or 5 sharp tips on it.
The hands of a picker stays sore from sticking his fingers with the sharp tips on the cotton burr all season.
And then there’s the aggravation of getting through saw briars and cockle burrs. The saw briars would cut your legs and the cockle burrs would stick to your clothes and cotton sack and the cotton itself.
Picking cotton in a field overgrown with cockle burrs could really be a sticky mess.
But the one thing that would ruin your day was to get stung with a packsaddle. The packsaddle is a worm that is beautiful in color with a design on his back that looks like a saddle. The worm loves cotton leaves almost as much as the boil weevil loves the cotton boll.
Getting stung by the little worm was a very painful experience and just hearing about someone else getting stung slowed your cotton picking down tremendously.
When the cotton picking season begins the weather in the mornings is pleasant but the temperatures are summer like during the day and afternoons. Later in the season the temperatures can be quite cool in the mornings even to the point of frost being formed on the cotton. By this time the days are getting shorter and cotton prices are dropping and you can’t wait until mid morning to hit the fields when the temperatures are warmer. If the cotton isn’t picked during the Fall because of too many rainy days the pickers are still in the fields in the winter. I have picked cotton with ice on the ground and it spitting snow. You have to really be desperate to hire yourself out at these times and we usually were.
And then there’s the reason for you being there in the first place and that is to try to make some money. The best cotton pickers who could pick 300 or 400 pounds a day made little more in a day then most people make in an hour today. You were paid by the pound and the rate ranged from $1.00 to $3.00 per hundred pounds. Because all the cotton bolls don’t open at the same time pickers had to go back over the field several times a season. The rate of pay was based on whether the cotton was being picked the first, second or third time. The first time the cotton was harvest the cotton was heavier and there may be a half a dozen bolls on the stalk. But by the third or fourth picking the cotton was dry and maybe one boll to a stalk.
You got paid the least by the pound during the first picking but there was more cotton on the stalk and it weighed more then. But if the burrs were still green, the cotton didn’t want to come out of the burr easily and you ended up stretching the cotton fibers and having to pull the loose locks of cotton out. Pickers called that goose locking.
Later after the cotton had been picked over a couple of times and the leaves had died and fell off, pickers were hired to pull bolls. Instead of picking the locks of cotton out of the bolls, the picker pulled the boll off the stalk with the cotton still in it. Even though there was less cotton bolls then and the picker was paid less per pound they usually ended up making a little more money pulling bolls instead of picking cotton.
But I remember the good times I had picking cotton in spite of the hard work. It was a time my family worked together to make money for the entire family. We all pitched in and did what we could to help out. My sister took care of the baby at the ends of the cotton rows under a shade tree but sometimes the baby would ride one of our cotton sacks through the fields.The children old enough to walk but not big enough to drag a sack full of cotton walked along side one of us and picked cotton and put it in our sacks. Society would be ready to scorn my parents for this today but they raised six children and neither one of us can imagine how to make a living without performing honest work for it today.
I remember fondly running up on a watermelon in the cotton row and we would all sat down to take a break and rest our backs and eat the sweet melon. Sometimes there was a water boy that carried cold water throughout the field in a jug or water bucket to the hands. The water was a great thirst quencher but there was no comparison to an ice cold Coke or RC during an afternoon break. This was a time when a Cola was a treat and no one substituted water with them.
Dinner time was always a special time while working in the cotton fields. If you worked for a small farmer and he had only a few hands working for him, his wife would cook dinner for everyone in his home. But I enjoyed eating lunch in the fields the most. This meant we got a rare treat for lunch. You may laugh but a bologna or potted meat sandwich and Pork n Beans and a Cola was something we rarely got when I was a kid. And then there was the time after dinner when you could lay under a big Oak tree with a cool breeze and rest until work time. But I was like most children I didn’t know what being tired and resting was so I joined the other kids playing until work time.
From my description of the work in picking cotton I suppose you would never think of it being a romantic place to meet the opposite sex but this happen to a lot of people. The boys would rush to get the cotton row by a pretty girl and the amount of cotton picked depended on how much the girl could pick. If she picked a lot of cotton the boy had to work hard to keep up and stay beside her. If she was slow very little cotton was picked by either person.
There was always a contest to see who could pick the most cotton by the end of the day. The owner usually was involved in getting these races started.
Earl Young got my brother and me in a contest that I will never forget. He promised the winner that he could go to his apple orchard and pick all the apples that he could carry back home. I won the contest and got the privilege of gathering the apples and carrying them home. A few years later I realized something was funny about the contest. My brother ate as many apples as I did and that was the only time I remember ever beating him in picking cotton.
After filling the sacks up the cotton pickers would carry them to a truck or a wagon located in the middle of the field to be weighed and emptied. Some farmers still used mules to pull the wagons but I rarely saw this in 1957. Sometimes if it was a big farmer and he had a lot of hands picking cotton he would pay someone extra to empty the sacks.
When I got older I had the pleasure of making a few extra dollars this way. But most of the time the young stronger boys emptied the sacks for the women and older men because it was common and expected.
Cotton Picking Time
I grew up in a community called Blow Gourd, on Sand Mountain, near Pisgah, Alabama. Every year in September my memory goes back to a job I had every Fall.
I picked cotton to earn money for school clothes and books from the time I was ten until I got out of school. I know most people who picked cotton would rather forget the experience, but I really enjoy thinking about my life in that period in the 1950’s. This was a time when my family was together and happy and a time I was taught valuable lessons in work ethics and gained and kept an appreciation for the easy job and life I have today.
The majority of the farms on Sand Mountain where I grew up were small family owned and the cotton could be picked by the members of the family. But the larger farmers with small families would hire other families to pick their cotton crops. Daddy wasn’t a farmer and drove a truck hauling logs and lumber for the local saw mill owners and this gave my family the opportunity to hire out to pick cotton for other farmers. Sometimes he hauled cotton to the gin after it was picked.
Picking cotton is back breaking work because you have to stay bent over at the waist dragging a sack behind you with 60 or 70 pounds of cotton in it all day. Those people that had weak backs had to crawl along the cotton rows on their knees because they couldn’t stay bent over all day.
Cotton grows inside a round ball about the size of a golf ball called a cotton boll until it matures. In early Fall the bolls began to open exposing the locks of cotton. After the boll opens and dries it is called a cotton burr and has about 4 or 5 sharp tips on it.
The hands of a picker stays sore from sticking his fingers with the sharp tips on the cotton burr all season.
And then there’s the aggravation of getting through saw briars and cockle burrs. The saw briars would cut your legs and the cockle burrs would stick to your clothes and cotton sack and the cotton itself.
Picking cotton in a field overgrown with cockle burrs could really be a sticky mess.
But the one thing that would ruin your day was to get stung with a packsaddle. The packsaddle is a worm that is beautiful in color with a design on his back that looks like a saddle. The worm loves cotton leaves almost as much as the boil weevil loves the cotton boll.
Getting stung by the little worm was a very painful experience and just hearing about someone else getting stung slowed your cotton picking down tremendously.
When the cotton picking season begins the weather in the mornings is pleasant but the temperatures are summer like during the day and afternoons. Later in the season the temperatures can be quite cool in the mornings even to the point of frost being formed on the cotton. By this time the days are getting shorter and cotton prices are dropping and you can’t wait until mid morning to hit the fields when the temperatures are warmer. If the cotton isn’t picked during the Fall because of too many rainy days the pickers are still in the fields in the winter. I have picked cotton with ice on the ground and it spitting snow. You have to really be desperate to hire yourself out at these times and we usually were.
And then there’s the reason for you being there in the first place and that is to try to make some money. The best cotton pickers who could pick 300 or 400 pounds a day made little more in a day then most people make in an hour today. You were paid by the pound and the rate ranged from $1.00 to $3.00 per hundred pounds. Because all the cotton bolls don’t open at the same time pickers had to go back over the field several times a season. The rate of pay was based on whether the cotton was being picked the first, second or third time. The first time the cotton was harvest the cotton was heavier and there may be a half a dozen bolls on the stalk. But by the third or fourth picking the cotton was dry and maybe one boll to a stalk.
You got paid the least by the pound during the first picking but there was more cotton on the stalk and it weighed more then. But if the burrs were still green, the cotton didn’t want to come out of the burr easily and you ended up stretching the cotton fibers and having to pull the loose locks of cotton out. Pickers called that goose locking.
Later after the cotton had been picked over a couple of times and the leaves had died and fell off, pickers were hired to pull bolls. Instead of picking the locks of cotton out of the bolls, the picker pulled the boll off the stalk with the cotton still in it. Even though there was less cotton bolls then and the picker was paid less per pound they usually ended up making a little more money pulling bolls instead of picking cotton.
But I remember the good times I had picking cotton in spite of the hard work. It was a time my family worked together to make money for the entire family. We all pitched in and did what we could to help out. My sister took care of the baby at the ends of the cotton rows under a shade tree but sometimes the baby would ride one of our cotton sacks through the fields.The children old enough to walk but not big enough to drag a sack full of cotton walked along side one of us and picked cotton and put it in our sacks. Society would be ready to scorn my parents for this today but they raised six children and neither one of us can imagine how to make a living without performing honest work for it today.
I remember fondly running up on a watermelon in the cotton row and we would all sat down to take a break and rest our backs and eat the sweet melon. Sometimes there was a water boy that carried cold water throughout the field in a jug or water bucket to the hands. The water was a great thirst quencher but there was no comparison to an ice cold Coke or RC during an afternoon break. This was a time when a Cola was a treat and no one substituted water with them.
Dinner time was always a special time while working in the cotton fields. If you worked for a small farmer and he had only a few hands working for him, his wife would cook dinner for everyone in his home. But I enjoyed eating lunch in the fields the most. This meant we got a rare treat for lunch. You may laugh but a bologna or potted meat sandwich and Pork n Beans and a Cola was something we rarely got when I was a kid. And then there was the time after dinner when you could lay under a big Oak tree with a cool breeze and rest until work time. But I was like most children I didn’t know what being tired and resting was so I joined the other kids playing until work time.
From my description of the work in picking cotton I suppose you would never think of it being a romantic place to meet the opposite sex but this happen to a lot of people. The boys would rush to get the cotton row by a pretty girl and the amount of cotton picked depended on how much the girl could pick. If she picked a lot of cotton the boy had to work hard to keep up and stay beside her. If she was slow very little cotton was picked by either person.
There was always a contest to see who could pick the most cotton by the end of the day. The owner usually was involved in getting these races started.
Earl Young got my brother and me in a contest that I will never forget. He promised the winner that he could go to his apple orchard and pick all the apples that he could carry back home. I won the contest and got the privilege of gathering the apples and carrying them home. A few years later I realized something was funny about the contest. My brother ate as many apples as I did and that was the only time I remember ever beating him in picking cotton.
After filling the sacks up the cotton pickers would carry them to a truck or a wagon located in the middle of the field to be weighed and emptied. Some farmers still used mules to pull the wagons but I rarely saw this in 1957. Sometimes if it was a big farmer and he had a lot of hands picking cotton he would pay someone extra to empty the sacks.
When I got older I had the pleasure of making a few extra dollars this way. But most of the time the young stronger boys emptied the sacks for the women and older men because it was common and expected.
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