A Lesson in Hard Work
Blog / Produced by The High Calling
Juan was a man in his forties or fifties in the cotton fields near my home in far West Texas, where I picked cotton sometimes after school and on Saturdays to make extra spending money. He picked cotton, too, but worked all day, everyday except Sunday, sunup to sundown. Picking cotton is how Juan made his living.
On those Saturdays that I worked a full day, I learned to appreciate the grueling, backbreaking twelve-to-fourteen hours of picking cotton in desert heat. We picked two varieties, short staple and Pima long staple. Of the two, short staple was easiest. With stalks four to six feet tall and large loose bolls, it took less pulling to pluck the bolls and less stooping to reach them. But short staple paid only two cents a pound. The more lucrative Pima, which paid four cents, was much more difficult. With stalks only two to three feet tall and much tighter, smaller bolls, Pima required an all-day bent back and talon-like clench of the fingers.
In a field of Pima, I first got to know Juan. One Saturday, as we all sat under an elm tree eating lunch, Juan looked up from under his straw hat, smiled, and offered me a homemade tamale. Gracias, I said, startled. Por nada, he replied. I knew few other words in Spanish, and he knew little English, so we said no more to one another that day.
But I began to notice Juan, first, because he, a man, had been so kind to me, a mere boy, and, second, because I noticed that Juan seemed to "weigh in" more often—that is, he seemed to haul more cotton to the scales than anyone else. Over time, I realized how much I learned from this man. He had a method, for one thing. I never saw him in short-staple fields, only in the Pima. Second, he carried a spare sack so that when he finished filling one in the middle of the row, he could continue picking until he returned up the next row. Then he would drag the full bag ahead a few feet, return to continue his picking, and wind up finally with two full bags for weigh in. And for me, as we parted at the end of those long Saturdays, he always had a smile and a buenos noches, joven.
Some men, with few words, can teach boys about how to behave and how to work. Juan was one, and for fifty years I have remembered and am grateful.
On those Saturdays that I worked a full day, I learned to appreciate the grueling, backbreaking twelve-to-fourteen hours of picking cotton in desert heat. We picked two varieties, short staple and Pima long staple. Of the two, short staple was easiest. With stalks four to six feet tall and large loose bolls, it took less pulling to pluck the bolls and less stooping to reach them. But short staple paid only two cents a pound. The more lucrative Pima, which paid four cents, was much more difficult. With stalks only two to three feet tall and much tighter, smaller bolls, Pima required an all-day bent back and talon-like clench of the fingers.
In a field of Pima, I first got to know Juan. One Saturday, as we all sat under an elm tree eating lunch, Juan looked up from under his straw hat, smiled, and offered me a homemade tamale. Gracias, I said, startled. Por nada, he replied. I knew few other words in Spanish, and he knew little English, so we said no more to one another that day.
But I began to notice Juan, first, because he, a man, had been so kind to me, a mere boy, and, second, because I noticed that Juan seemed to "weigh in" more often—that is, he seemed to haul more cotton to the scales than anyone else. Over time, I realized how much I learned from this man. He had a method, for one thing. I never saw him in short-staple fields, only in the Pima. Second, he carried a spare sack so that when he finished filling one in the middle of the row, he could continue picking until he returned up the next row. Then he would drag the full bag ahead a few feet, return to continue his picking, and wind up finally with two full bags for weigh in. And for me, as we parted at the end of those long Saturdays, he always had a smile and a buenos noches, joven.
Some men, with few words, can teach boys about how to behave and how to work. Juan was one, and for fifty years I have remembered and am grateful.
