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Joe Stewart Pitts
I was born in the mid 1950’s, the ninth child, in a small Southern town of Clarkedale, AR. This town was mostly farming territory-cotton, soy beans, sorghum, strawberry and asparagus. If you lived ...mehr sehenI was born in the mid 1950’s, the ninth child, in a small Southern town of Clarkedale, AR. This town was mostly farming territory-cotton, soy beans, sorghum, strawberry and asparagus. If you lived on the land, you worked the land. I can remember becoming familiar with the workforce at the age of twelve, chopping cotton, working 10 our days for three dollars a day.
The town’s General Store was the meeting place to get paid, buy junk food, mingle with friends and the elders would catch up on the latest gossip. So store front porch gossip was the best way to keep it private. It was a time when the simple things were less expensive and more enjoyable. At this point in my life, I can really say “Those were the good ole days.”
I finished high school, making the honor roll the last six weeks of school. English was only my favorite subject, but I really didn’t pick up a book as much or often as I should have. Not wanting to remain on the farm, I bought my first car, which I called Blue, for two hundred dollars. When that day came, Blue and I headed to Little Rock, AR. I’m still here. The things I have may not be a caddy, a mansion, or the latest fashions, but as long as what I have serves it’s purpose and I’m not living above my means, I’m happy.weniger sehen