Grandma Estelle

Grandma Estelle

I don't recall every seeing Grandma just a settin at rest. During the day, she would be in the tobacco fields, just like us boys. She could sucker the tobacco, or crop them as well as any of the guys, and probably better than most. Her tote sack would be just as heavy as the men's in the cotton patch, and her rows were picked clean. She didn't leave much white for us 'little fellers' to glean behind her. When she wasn't in the fields, she would be up under the sheds tying and hanging the tobacco in the barns to dry. Even up to the house Grandma stayed moving. Chopping kindling for the cook stove, hauling buckets of water from the spring for washing and cooking. Down here we don't mow the grass, we sweep the yard with a homemade broom. That was Grandma's job also. Even on a Sunday afternoon, when we would all be settin on the porch, with a glass of tea and telling each other Swamp Stories, Grandma would laugh right along with the rest of us, but she would have a tub of field peas or butterbeans in her lap and she would never quit shelling. I was a tad at the time, and dearly loved my Grandma. There wasn't a lot a little feller can do to help around the house, but one job I did for Grandma was every morning to take her slop jar out to the Necessary House and empty it and clean it out for her. She never once failed to say thank you, and I know she appreciated it. (She would slip me a little extra piece of Chitlins or Hog Skin, every now and then) One summer, the spring started to dry up and Grandma was having to go further and further to get water. She decided she wanted a well. Grandpa Kader Lewis just snorted at "sech wimmins foolishness", and refused to dig that well. Then one evening, after a long hot day in the cornfield, him and his sons came to the cabin and they won't no supper waitin on the table. Grandma explained that she had taken so long to haul water that she didn't have time to cook. They all sat down to cold biscuits and black sorghum molasses. Grandpa Kader didn't say a word, but afterwards he got out the lanterns and led his sons to a spot about 10 feet from the back door and said "Boys we are gonna put a well, rite chere". They dug that well with picks, shovels, iron bars and buckets. Grandma now has one of the finest 40-foot deep wells in the county and I learned a great lesson that night. It don't take much to make a woman happy. Just give her some respect, a little love and a good well.

-Bob Gurkin