Floella Coggins

FLOELLA COGGINS

REMEMBERING A GOOD TURN

Way back in the fall of 1948 when people, and not machines, still picked cotton, I found out how wonderful it is to do a good turn for someone less fortunate. If you were less fortunate than my family at the time, you indeed could sure use a good turn, although I don’t recall thinking about any such thing.

I was twelve years old at the time; tall, gangly and setting the cotton-patch on fire! There were several of us picking; we were “hiring out to a neighbor. The autumn sun was very warm; the back and knees were aching.

A young preacher and his wife and five small children were living in the community at that time. I know now that they, like the rest of us, were having a tough time of it just surviving. Times were not all that great in the rural south, shortly after World War II.

I cannot even recall the preacher’s name, now, that has been fifty-five plus years ago, but I remember he was always singing an old hymn as he worked.

“Flo,” he said, “I wonder if I could get you to stay with our kids tomorrow. My wife and I have some business we need to take care of in town.”

“I’ll have to ask my parents, I replied, “but I’m sure it will be OK.”

I rushed home that evening and eagerly told my parents what the preacher had asked me to do. They were dubious about me looking after five small children even for a few hours but I could be very persuasive when it was something I wanted to do. (Still can. Can’t we all?)

Mid-morning the next day I appeared at their door. They introduced me to their children, gave me a few instructions and left, saying they would be back by early evening.

Well, to tell the truth, the house looked like small rented farmhouses looked forty odd years ago. The belongings and furnishings were meager even to my young and inexperienced eyes.

As the old saying is: “I saw my duty and I done it.” (I don’t know who said it.) I swept the rough wood floors, drew some water from the well, changed the dirty baby and gave him a bottle. After that I brought in all the little ragged and worn clothes that were hanging outside on the pasture fence which also served as a clothes line. Next I folded all the clothes, straightened everything I could see that needed it, fed the children what I could find and fix, looked around and decided I had done all I could.

About sundown the preacher and wife drove up in their ancient pick-up. Frankly, their eyes widened and their faces lit up with pleasure when they saw all the work I had done. Of course that made me just swell up with pride, too. He tried his best to get me to take two dollars, but I would never take the two, I would only take one.

I know my steps were light; why my feet barely touched the dirt road, and my smile lasted into the twilight the whole two miles home. What a wonderful feeling I had inside!

As I said earlier, that little incident happened over 55 years ago, and no one may even remember it except me. I do not claim to be an especially good person, and there are probably are those who would most definitely say I wasn’t, but I’m glad to say it still gives me a glow inside even today when I know I have done a good turn for someone who really needed it. Knowing you helped is the greater reward. You don’t forget the feeling.