“Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.” Thomas A. Edison
I have always worked it seems. When I was a little boy we moved to a farm outside of Gainesville, Texas. It was a four room house, 15 acres of mostly sand and rocks, a chicken house, a barn and a pump house. The pump didn’t work so we bought a long rope and a long bucket. To water the chickens and the cow, we would lower the bucket and my brother and I would pull it back up. It had a valve on the bottom and a release handle on the top. We would fill other, more traditional buckets, with water and carry them down to the barn or chicken coop. That was our first job. I was four and Tommy was five.
When I was five, we would go with the farmer neighbors to another farm further down the road and pick dew berries and black berries for 5 cents a pint. We would also go to yet another farm and pull cotton. Cotton, even back then was picked by a machine, but the machines were inefficient and so local poor people, like us, could go and pull the remaining cotton off the stripped plants for five cents a pound. It involved, hanging a long bag around our neck and walking stooped over, down the rows pulling off the cotton bolls into the bag. At the end of a few rows we would haul our bags over to