THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, April 20, 1995 TAG: 9504200137
SECTION: SUFFOLK SUN PAGE: 06 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Letter
LENGTH: Long : 155 lines
FULL STOMACHS THE PAY IN COTTON-PICKING DAYS
Reading about the cotton gin issues brings back memories of the times my brothers and I, then ages 6 to 13, were required to assist our parents in picking cotton in the Buckhorn area, then known as Nansemond County.
The fields happened to be in sight of a cotton gin. We each had burlap bags or sacks, with shoulder straps of sorts, into which we placed the picked cotton. I was 6 years old and I frequently stepped on the bag dragging on the ground and crashed into one or two cotton stalks. Where were the child labor laws? There weren't any. Only the law of family survival. Times were tough.
At the time, our parents were paid a penny per pound each for picking cotton. At the end of the day, each sack of cotton was weighed and the picker paid accordingly, and the cotton was hauled to the nearby gin in a mule-drawn cart.
I do not recall how much my brothers and I were paid. We never saw any cash. During the long days, we played around a lot. I believe they call it ``goofing off'' today.
I believe also that our pay for picking cotton turned up in the form of a large bowl of beans or rice and homemade biscuits at suppertime. As an extra bonus, sometimes we had blackstrap molasses to go with any leftover biscuits.
After moving into the city of Suffolk many years ago, it seems like we always lived very near railroads and sawmills where coal-burning locomotives spewed out their smoke and cinders off-and-on, day-and-night, as they passed through or were shifting cars. The many sawmills and industrial plants were constantly belching out smoke from their stacks. Clothes hanging on lines were a prime target for cinders.
Strange as it may seem, we heard nothing about air and water pollution until the jet and space age arrived.
Clarence L. Jones
White Marsh Road
Suffolk
AN INSPIRING SERVICE MAKES EASTER SPECIAL
The Easter sunrise service at Constant's Wharf, held jointly by Suffolk Christian Church and Main Street and Providence United Methodist churches, was the most meaningful I have ever attended.
The Rev. Havens, Felumlee and Robert Vaughn did a wonderful job of reading the Scriptures and bringing the message. Sarah and Clyde Burford sang a beautiful hymn, ``Rise Again.'' Mary William Baines and supporting musicians brought all of us who attended much joy and pleasure.
Bill Ward delivered a wonderful prayer.
To all who helped in any way to bring this service to the public, thank you for a job well done.
William W. Hill
York Street
Suffolk
HIS RIGHT TO SPEAK DENIED BY CITY COUNCIL
During a special City Council public hearing on March 29, I was denied my right to speak.
I was at the podium, ready to address council. Suddenly, the mayor announced to me and more than 250 startled people that the clock had run out for the 45-minute allocated time for public comment. The mayor stated he was only enforcing council rules.
True, council rules permit the mayor to set time limits for proponents and opponents to speak, but what the mayor failed to do was to divide the remaining time among those wishing to speak, so that everyone would be heard. Simply stated, when there are a parade of speakers appearing during a highly charged and debated issue, i.e., ``race track,'' the mayor would pause to ask for a show of hands - how many speakers in the chamber and out in the hall were planning to address council. The mayor would further advise the speakers not to be repetitious or redundant in their remarks.
I and every past mayor have used this format over the years. It's fair, equitable and honest. Mayor Jones did not follow this format. He erred terribly!
Many citizens are upset over the incident. They even apologize to me for the mayor's action. However, some members of council are putting their own ``spin,'' telling people they were only enforcing the ``rules.'' The mayor did call me the next day to tell me his decision was not directed at me. Still, the ``spin'' goes around and around. Where it will stop, nobody knows.
I am greatly troubled about the way this issue was handled. Hopefully, the next time, the mayor will follow this proven format.
Experience is a good teacher. Mayor Jones learns fast. I'm betting he will make some adjustments.
Andy Damiani
Dumville Avenue
Suffolk
DADDY, AN HONEST DOER, GAVE LESSONS FOR FAMILY
My Daddy was one of the Old Virginia Hams here in Prince William County. His radio call sign is WA4VAC. When I was a kid, I used to sleep in the radio room and would listen to Morse Code and beautiful songs come in from all over the world. I asked what the VAC part stood for and Daddy said it was voltage alternating current. That is when I learned about patterns, how so few letters could stand for so much.
Daddy had MARS emblems on his books and on his ham equipment. I later learned in school there was a planet called Mars, too. My daddy and his ham buddies used to talk about this black box, and I was always intrigued by that black box.
My daddy played the guitar, and Daddy, Momma and us 11 kids would sing a song about preferring to live in our log cabin by the side of the road. My daddy would rather do some neighborly deed to try to help a poor soul or a friend in need than to be a star or a millionaire or live in mansions of bright array.
My daddy planted and raised us in a safe, healthy environment at Independent Hill. He used to tell me, ``Don't worry, Muffett. We are on the safest, highest ground here in the whole county.'' He said if Lake Jackson, Broad Run and Cedar Run flooded, we would be safe.
In those early years, when my daddy worked up in the Town of Manassas, he would always go out and fix fallen electrical lines that had fallen down and do whatever was necessary to get lights and power back up. Whenever any kind of storm or emergency disaster hit our Manassas area, my daddy was out there in the elements doing his best to help others. Momma told me Daddy had a hard, dangerous job, and we worried about him when he was not home.
He cultured us in the ways of survival, farming, sensing, loving, caring life. My daddy only wanted my momma. He never wanted any other women.
My daddy always stressed safety in anything we did. He protected and sheltered us in ways that the Defense Department would be proud of. If any bad untoward influences would come around us kids, Daddy would tell that person or those people to ``get the hell up the road.'' As us 11 kids grew older, no one messed with our daddy unless they wanted to mess with us.
My daddy sacrificed in ways unseen and untold. He spent quality time with us, never left us to fend for ourselves, never abandoned us. Because of his love for his family, he let go of certain opportunities he rightfully could have taken advantage of in the height of his working years, but he would not do anything to the detriment of his family. We needed him. He knew it and he was there.
Daddy never took advantage of anybody. He didn't want what someone else had. When the boys were growing into men, they needed their daddy around instead of him being off on some electrical subcontracting job down in Radford or Fort Meade. He was a doer, not a talker.
My daddy never talked about the problem with his eye, never talked about the Korean War. He never tried to get any of his veteran benefits. He never talked about serving proudly for his country. He was a quiet man and never talked about his problems.
When Momma and Daddy got together, something special and magical happened. They had 11 beautiful children - six sons and five daughters.
When they were dating and got married back in Suffolk, my daddy's way of entertainment was for my momma to drop him off at the Great Dismal Swamp and Daddy would go in and get a bear.
As you can see here, my daddy was in the Korean War. When he came home, he and Momma got married. When we were growing up as kids, my daddy used to call us his troops. Daddy called us Troop O. He always flew the flag on clear days, but on a rainy day the flag came in the house to be protected. He trained us kids in the woods. My daddy was a woodsman, a hunter, a loner.
Please, God, take care of him. I am confident and content that my daddy will be watching us.
Sheila Outland Day
Midland MEMO: Note: John J. Outland Jr., who died March 19, was a former resident of
Suffolk.
by CNB