freshare.net
Throughout two-thirds of the 20th century, a green cotton boll made the perfect hand-held, long distance weapon for cotton patch kids. Because of its cone shape and size, kids learned to throw the perfect spiral before ever seeing or laying hands on a football.
As with any game there were rules. The first was to never let adults witness a throw because cotton bolls, especially the large ones, were an economic issue. The second was to throw into field areas that had already been harvested. This served to delay the observation of the green missiles lying around, which might otherwise lead to a penalty, quickly administered by any adult on the field of play.
As with football, some kids couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn and others, because of previous economic lessons, simply refused to play. My sister Anna, though a lefty, as well as a girl, could zip a boll so close to your ear it telegraphed the message, “You boys had better back off!”
In the early 20th century, cotton was produced on 80 percent of Arkansas farms and as many as 575,000 horses and mules, necessary to produce the crops, could be found all across the state. Even as late as 1990, a trip through the Ozarks could reveal skeleton structures of cotton gins, a sign that King Cotton, like the Roman Empire, had at one time spread its influence well beyond the Delta.
By 1950, because of the Dust Bowl, boll weevil, the development of the mechanical cotton picker and northern migration of farm labor, the number of cotton producing farms had dropped to 55 percent. Today, only 2.5 percent of Arkansas farms produce cotton but manage to maintain its strong economical significance.
Perhaps a reflection of current conditions, the impact of labor migration in the mid-20th century Arkansas was an economic and social issue, causing families, farms and friends to be torn apart. Numerous books were written and songs topped the charts with messages that still ring clear to those involved with cotton in one aspect or another.
The last year our family hand-picked cotton was in 1966. Recently, I overheard an older brother tell an inquisitive lady, “A number of kids who migrated out of cotton country suffered long into their adult years.” Wincing as she developed a mental picture of the probable circumstances, she asked, “Was it from hard labor and social conditions?”
“No ma’am,” he replied, “But at times we might need an aspirin for headaches or other pains. The first thing required after opening a bottle was to remove the cotton, but we had taken a solemn oath to never pick the stuff again!” ‘Til next week!