Deb: Sisters, Family, and cropping, stringing, and hanging tobacco

Hello, and welcome back to Miz Judi’s Kitchen. I hope this finds all of you well and happy. As you know I took the weekend off (from Dub). I had a great time with our two sons and four of our grandkids, as well as seeing my sisters too.

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A couple of weekends ago one of my sister’s, Chris, was out helping her husband split firewood with a log splitter. Somehow she managed to get her hand evidently exactly where she didn’t need to have it, and the end result was her being airlifted to Gainesville to have surgery. Long story short, we had a very happy ending to what very easily could have been a tragedy. Chris was extremely lucky in this regard. She had to have her thumb reattached, which her body now has accepted, but still faces some wrist surgery. But again, all in all, literally a blessing, thank God! Well while there, my sisters and I had some “catching up” to do of course, and proceeded in this at a trot! We just sat around, ran our mouths, had a few laughs, and went on about, you know, important things! Things like whose marriage may be on shaky ground, what kids were giving their parents problems (none of ours, of course), but by far the most enjoyable being the laughing and reliving of our childhood. Now as I’ve said earlier, I was the baby of our clan, and honestly I wanted every bit the benefits of being such! My sisters, though can’t see for the life of them why being the baby should be any different than being any of the other children. As a matter of fact, this past weekend being no different, they were telling me it wasn’t so much that I was indeed the baby, as it was I was merely a spoiled little brat! Now for the life of me, I just can’t see that, though after getting back home Dub claimed they may be onto something there. My response…”Watch it, buster!” My sister\s all started in on me about when my Mama and Daddy used to grow tobacco, and informing me how I didn’t have to do anything because I was Daddy’s little baby, and could do no wrong. My reaction…”It is what it is!” Everyday we’d work in the tobacco, Daddy and I would go get everyone a snack from the store, a drink and a pack of crackers. Of course I would get the drink and crackers too… plus candy. I’d heard candy wasn’t too good on your teeth, but did any of my sisters look at this, as I in fact was trying to keep them purty smiles on their faces? No way, they took it as one more example of “favoritism,” if you can believe such total nonsense! My sisters, in one of their “rants” began telling me about this one day in particular, when me and Daddy had just gotten back from the store. Let me stop here for just a second and “enlighten” the ones who may not know about cropping, stringing, and hanging tobacco. Once you had cropped (picked) your tobacco, we’d load the leaves on a trailer and haul it to the barn. At this point we had three of us kids designated as handlers. They’d sort the tobacco into groups of three leaves, and then they’d hand each bunch consisting of these three leaves to the stringers, three more of us kids. The stringers would then tie each bunch to a tobacco “stick” (slat, or stake, but we always called them sticks). Once each bunch was strung (tied) on the stick, continually stringing until each stick was full, the sticks would then be hung in the barn until the tobacco was cured. All this was done on one huge table. Now, back to me and Daddy getting back from the store, my sister’s claimed he’d put me up on that big ole table and I’d walk back and forth aggravating them while they were stringing that tobacco. This wasn’t my intention at all, as I wasn’t trying to aggravate them as much as I was trying to damage what little bit of stem was left on the tobacco leaves! Why? Because by doing this it made it that much more difficult for them to string those bunches on the “stick,” in order to hang it to cure! Boy, they’d be so mad at me they’d be fit to be tied! They’d holler to Daddy to get me off that table because of my breaking those stems, and I remember him to this day telling them, “Now girls, that baby ain’t hurtin’ a thing. In all honesty, “that baby” he was talking about was by now six or seven years old. This past weekend they told me they’d get so mad, that after seeing Daddy wasn’t about to harm a hair on the baby’s head, they started another tactic. They then would tell me, “you try that when Mama gets here, cause they knew plum well, I was not about to try my Mama! I knew when Mama got through with cooking dinner and came down to that barn, you got it…I better find me a spot and sit right down. Then my sisters claimed I’d start eating my candy and the whole time them begging me for a piece. Me…I’d look up at ‘em and just keep on eating. Now it seems like I do remember some of what they’re saying, and I must admit, to an extent some of what they say is right, but what can I say… when you got it… you got it, and when you don’t… you don’t. We did have a great time talking about old times, and I hope all our kids and grandkids have as much fun talking about their childhoods as we do. Because to me, if you don’t have good memories of growing up, there’s just not too much to pass along! Without this, money and material things mean nothing! Keep a smile on your face, and one in your heart! God Bless each and every one of you! Deb

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