Thanksgiving At The Gin
We gave thanks for our many blessings that year, especially the bountiful crop, and then heaped our plates with delicious food.
In 1968, when I returned to the Mississippi Delta after overseas military service, my father hired me as his farm manager. One year, when harvest season was near, he said, “Son, we’ve got a fine cotton crop to gather. I’ll spend all my time in the fields. You’ll have to manage the gin. Jaybird will show you the works.”
Even though I found comfort in knowing that my boyhood best friend and mentor Jaybird would train me, I was still petrified. I not only had to keep the gin’s machines synchronized and running at peak efficiency, but also I had to manage an eight-man crew: four Blacks and four Hispanics.Welcome to CFP’s Comment Section!
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