Louisiana Grassroots

The first year I lived near Epps I picked cotton for a neighbor and bought myself three school dresses. I wasn’t good at picking cotton. I didn’t like the sweltering heat and the sharp, dry points of the cotton bolls that stuck my fingers.
Luckily, a school dress my size could be bought for about ninety-eight cents. What a sense of accomplishment I had when I went to town, picked out my dresses, and reached up to place my money on the high counter at the dry goods store. My sister came down with rheumatic fever after having strep throat. This was before the time of penicillin and antibiotics, and the disease had to run its course. Her tonsils were removed and there followed many months of quiet bed rest.
I went to school, did my chores, and took to the outdoors alone. I roamed the woods behind the house and went down into the pasture to climb my favorite tree or lie on the soft grass, thinking my thoughts and dreaming my dreams. I’d like to think I dreamed of lofty goals, but my dreams more likely were of growing long, black curls overnight in place of my own lanky hair or becoming a hero, adored by all after single-handedly accomplishing some great feat.
Sometimes I dreamed of a world wider than my own, but I didn’t dream nearly large enough. I didn’t envision the marvels of communication, technology, medicine, transportation or other wonders to come. I didn’t dream of seeing the sunrise over Diamond Head, standing before the Mona Lisa, hearing the haunting strains of a bagpipe on the rocky shore of Nova Scotia, or countless other things the last half of the century would bring.
Neither did I dream of a surprise attack on my country nor a world at war.