Friday, April 8, 2016


Once upon a time we had grandparents from both sides we used to see. So we started calling one Rosenberg Mamaw and the other Houston Mamaw named  after the towns they lived in at the time. (this was also done for our grandfathers)
 (Houston Mamaw will be talked about in a later blog).

Rosenberg Mamaw was a very hard working woman. She would do the job of a man out in the fields and then go back to the house to bake, cook the meals, clean house and maybe even do laundry.
Lots of times she would be out weeding in her garden. I don't know where she got the energy to keep up this pace for so many years. Mamaw also had an old upright piano she used to play. She was taught to play the harmonica starting at age five. And boy was she good!

The train tracks ran by the farm. Hobo's from time to time would jump off the train and come to my grandparents door. (We lived down the dirt road from the house) My grandmother would never let them in but she would make them a sandwich. They were happy and after eating they would go on their way.
It's a good thing my grandfather  wasn't around when this happened. He was either in the fields or going into town for the daily newspaper.

I remember going with her to pick cotton. All the adults had those big fifty pound croker  sacks they had to fill. I was given an orange sack from the fruit. My grandmother would drag me down the isles along with her. I sat on her croker sack. She would pick the cotton on the top and I would grab the ones on the bottom. I remember being so proud when I got that sack full until I saw their big bags. I was only five years old at the time.

My Grandfather was a hard person to get to know. I very seldom saw him. He always carried Lifesavers in his pocket. Later we found out he was diagnosed with diabetes but never acknowledged it.
Rosenberg Papaw was a strong church goer. And was very possessive of what he owned. Whenever someone came onto the property when we were living on the farm, he would race over in his car with a shotgun to run them off.

Papaw passed away in the seventies. Mamaw survived him by several years.
(the photo above are both grandparents with their two siblings on my dad's side plus the house they were born in)


  1. I just read a post somewhere while doing research for my blog about a little kid picking cotton. He only lasted until noon, with his little sack. I see what you mean about the hobos being lucky your grandfather wasn't around. Finding Eliza

  2. sounds like your Rosenberg Papaw wasn't very social! :) He sounds tough. Your Grandmother was such a hard worker. My grandparents were hard workers like that too. They never stopped, even well into their 80s when they should've been resting and relaxing. I find that generation had/has a hard time relaxing...

    Interesting post.

    Michele at Angels Bark

  3. Thea,

    Nice story about living on the farm. I don't know how R. Mamaw kept up that pace either, especially with her arthritis. But she never complained.



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