Joys, Sorrows, and Hopes
The Life of an African American Family in the Depression-Era South
by
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The Dinner Bell – and a Tragedy I remember a sound from so long ago that was very pleasing to my ears. The sound was from our dinner bell. At 11:30 AM everyday that we worked in the fields, Mama would ring the dinner bell. The ringing would let us know that dinner was ready and we should come home from the field to eat our mid-day meal. That bell was an essential part of our routine of life on the farm. I do not remember a time when it was not in our yard. It was always there and used. When the bell was put in our yard, Papa nailed it to a tall post with a rope tied to the top of the bell. The rope was long enough to be reached from the ground by Mama. When she pulled on it, it caused the bell to swing from one side to the other. The bell was made of iron and was at least two feet high and very heavy. A round iron ball hung down inside of it. As the rope was pulled, the ball hit one side of the bell and then the other. The ringing of the bell could be heard for many miles away. When we moved from one place to another, Papa took the bell and the post down and moved it along with us. When Papa stopped farming, he let the bell continue to hang on the tall post in the back yard. In the 1970s, my sister took our dinner bell to her home in Columbus, Ohio. It was at the time still hanging on a post in Papa’s back yard. She asked Papa for it and he gave it to her. My sister’s husband installed it on a post in their back yard. In the 1990’s our brother, Oliver, took it down from the post for her because she and her husband were selling their home to move into a senior citizens apartment for health reasons. Oliver lives in Ohio, so when he came to my home to visit, I asked him to bring the bell to me if he did not want it in his yard. He brought it to me. I had planned to have it put up in my yard. Finally I did have the bell put up in my back yard. When Oliver brought the bell to me, so many memories came with it. Many happy ones because every day it was a reminder that we could stop working in the fields for a while and that now we were about to have some of Mama’s good cooking. Whereas, the dinner bell brings to mind many joyful memories, there are other memories that were sorrowful. One day, in 1940, Papa sent two of our brothers, 18 year-old Lepolion and 15 year-old Donnie, to a field, which was quite a long distance from our house, to plow using two of the mules. By this time we were living on Mr. Avery’s farm. Mr. Avery was a white farmer, for whom my parents sharecropped; the mules belonged to him. At about 11:30 a.m., Mama rang the dinner bell for all of us to come to dinner. Some of us were chopping cotton in another field, Papa and some of my other brothers were working in a different location on the property. We all went home to eat dinner except for Lepolion and Donnie. They were required to ride the mules to Mr. Avery’s barn, to feed and water them, before coming home. As they had done many times before, Lepolion climbed on to ride one mule, and Donnie rode the other mule. The field in which the boys were plowing was quite a distance from the barn, maybe two miles. The mules walked over terraces, across ditches. They also crossed a field called ‘new ground’. This was formerly a wooded area, however, most of the trees had been cleared, and some tree stumps were left to be later dug up. Lepolion and Donnie had reached that field when, for some reason Donnie’s mule stumbled, As a result, Donnie fell part-way off of the mule’s back and then the mule started to run. Donnie’s foot became caught in a part of the bridle, and he was then dragged as the mule ran. Lepolion tried, but was unable to stop the mule. The mule never stopped running until he arrived at the barn. As for the rest of the family, we were all home waiting for the two of them to join us for dinner. Then suddenly, Lepolion ran into the kitchen and told Mama and Papa that Donnie had been hurt. All of us ran to the barn as fast as we could. Mama was crying and asking Lepolion over and over “is he hurt bad”? I only remember his answer being that he fell off of the mule’s back. When we got to the barn someone had put Donnie in the trunk of Mrs. Avery’s car. She said I will carry him to the doctor for you. Mama and Papa got into the front seat with her. My brother Barney rode in the trunk with Donnie to hold his head. The trip to the doctor was about fifteen miles away. He was not moving or making any sound, the rest of us went back home to wait. No one ate dinner that day, we just waited. Only Lepolion knew really what had happened to him, only Lepolion saw the mule dragging him. He said over and over that he tried to catch him but could not run as fast as the mule. When Papa, Mama and Barney came home, neither of them was saying anything. We knew Donnie was dead. Mama did not seem like herself at all, she was so upset and grief stricken. Papa tried everything he knew to comfort her, but could not. He was so worried about her because she could not be comforted. She even expressed that she wished that God to let her die, and allow Donnie live. My siblings who lived in West Virginia came home for Donnie’s funeral. Theodore, Arthur, Guy, Booker and Lillie all came except Taft, he did not come. I never knew why. I try at times to remember his funeral, but for some reason I can not remember anything about it. I do remember that I thought Mama would never be the same again. She got sick soon afterward my brother’s death and Papa carried her to a doctor. When they came home she told us that she was going to have to eat different, because her blood pressure was too high that it could affect her heart. I was eleven when Donnie was killed. I only remember Mama being sick one time before that year. But after that awful tragedy of Donnie’s death, she was never well again. She soon started having chest pains. The doctor told Mama that her heart was getting weak and the she needed to stop working in the fields. As we had done over the years, after the crop was gathered, we gave one half of everything we grew to Mr. Avery, because that was the sharecropping agreement. Papa and Mama sharecropped for a span of time because they did not own land. Eventually, Papa was able to afford to rent a farm in a location close to Roanoke, Alabama This farm was to be worked the same as before, through a sharecrop arrangement, since we still did not own any farm animals, a wagon or anything that enabled us to work any other way. Again, we moved in the wintertime. We moved all of our furniture on a wagon, just as we had done before. By this time, our brother Barney was living and working in Roanoke. Barney came home when he could. One of those times when he came for the weekend, just out of the blue, no one asked him anything, he began to speak of the day Donnie died. Barney told us that Donnie did not die after they got him to the doctor’s office. As the doctor had said, he told us I knew I was holding his head and I know when he stopped breathing and that was long before we got to the doctor. He no doubt re-lived that experience many times in his mind. Maybe that is why he decided to tell us, possibly hoping he could stop thinking of it, he talked about it. After Donnie’s death, and the move to the new farm, we children who were school-age, continued to attend the same school until that term ended. To do so we had to walk about three miles to get the bus that would take us back to Five Points School. By this time, a few buses were provided for black children. Lepolion and Oliver, now in their late teens got jobs at a lumber yard in Roanoke, and did not attend school anymore. As time allowed, they continued to help Papa do the plowing of the fields. We all missed Donnie so much when we were in the fields working. If Mama and Papa were with us we never mentioned him, but if they were not near, we talked about things he used to d
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About the Book
The joy in this story is about growing up in a home with my parents, brothers, and sisters; and knowing were loved by our parents. Our life was hard, we did not own the house that we lived in, or the farm land that we worked. We were sharecroppers. My parents were the offspring of freed slaves. When my father’s parents died, he was thirteen years old. He sharecropped to provide for himself and his six younger siblings. My parents married in 1905 and became parents to eleven sons and three daughters. We all worked in the field together. We ate all meals together. That was enjoyable because mama was the best cook ever. I do not remember any of us every saying to mama “I don’t like to food.” There were many tragedies that brought sorrows and grief. For example, in 1940, my youngest brother was killed by a mule when he was only fifteen years old. That caused almost unbearable grief for mama. In the ensuing years, four more of my brothers were killed. The hope that I have is to live on earth when God’s kingdom comes and his will is done.
About the Author
Grace was inspired to write her life story because of her memories of growing up in the Depression-era Southern United States. She is but two generations away from slavery. The vividness of her memories stretches back over seven decades. She remembers the joys and sorrows experienced by her parents as they expended tremendous effort to feed, clothe, and shelter 14 children. As Grace has grown older, she appreciates now, even more than when she was a child, the strength, tenacity, and determination displayed by her parents. Grace was born in 1929, in Five Points, Alabama, the fourteenth child of Lessie and Mollie Todd Smedley. Grace finished high school and attended Alabama A&M. After college, she returned to her hometown and briefly taught school before traveling to Detroit, Michigan, where she married her long-time boyfriend in 1951. Grace has two children and has been widowed since 1989. She currently resides in Tuskegee, Alabama.