Past lives…

Image

My very early childhood was unusual, to say the least.  My brothers, mother and I moved a LOT.  I’ve been told I was born with wheels on my butt.

After my mother left my father, she was married to a man for a few years that was a migrant worker.  As a family, we followed the fruit, picking as we went, to earn a living.  We lived in Picker’s Cabins or tents or the back of the station wagon.

This was in the early 1960’s.   Most people don’t realize that in the 1960’s, 83% of the migrant workers were white families, just like mine.  Today, the migrant workers are mostly Hispanic.  The working conditions are no better today, in fact in some instances, they are worse.

Most of the Picker’s Cabins had no running water or electricity.  Women cooked on communal stoves or over open fires.  The toilets, if there were any, were few and in disgraceful disrepair.  In a lot of cases, there were only outhouses.

There were few laundry facilities.  Most of the time, clothing was washed by hand and hung to dry.

Image

In some of the cabins, the property owners were generous enough to provide bales of straw to use as bedding and insulation.  In some instances, you didn’t even get that.

I was lucky.  My mother and step-father were prepared.  We had a nice canvas tent and bedding or sleeping bags.

My mother became very adept at cooking over an open fire.  She was amazing!

Washing and sanitary conditions were a challenge.  The water came from a single faucet for all the workers in most instances.  Water had to be carried for washing, bathing or cooking.

I have 3 brothers; two older brothers and one younger one.  My brothers and I spent our days out in the fields with my parents.  We weren’t much help as far as the picking went, but my mother could keep an eye on us as she worked.

I can imagine the hardship on her with 4 children living in these conditions.  My younger brother was just a toddler at the time.

Image

The migrant workers were exploited at every turn.  Most were uneducated and illiterate.  In some instances, the workers would end up owing more money to the owner’s ‘store” than they had earned; thus keeping them working for little or nothing instead of moving on.

There was often times a “boss” on the farm that the workers reported to, depending on how large the farm was.  Sometimes the boss would skim off the top of the worker’s wages.  They would be quoted one price upon arrival at the farm, but when payday came, they were at the mercy of the boss.  If they complained, they were simply run off the farm.  This meant they were out of work.

There were many horrors that took place on these farms; anything from rapes, to murders and exploitation.  These people were at the mercy of the farmer.

I was fortunate.  This lifestyle didn’t last long.  I think we were on the road for a couple of years.  My mother gathered up us kids and left.  I was lucky that I was so young.  It’s just the way life was; I knew no different.

This is a part of history that most Americans have forgotten or don’t know about.  This is a shameful, dark part of our own culture.

If you’d like to learn more about this time in history, I invite you to watch this video. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UL0DJzQFqq8

This video was broadcast on Thanksgiving Day in 1960.  It’s called “Harvest of Shame”.  While most of it is set in Florida, I was on the west coast as a kid.  It is still an eye opener.

 

About Penny Wilson Writes

I am a freelance writer that writes in several genres. I've had a successful blog with a growing and loyal following for more than 5 years. I've written articles for Counseling Directory .org, Introvert Dear .com and WOW Women on Writing. I'm currently working on my first novel. You can find more of my writings on my blog at: https://pennywilsonwrites.com/ and follow me on Twitter @pennywilson123.
This entry was posted in Life, Stories and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s