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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required We lived in the heart of town through which ran a paved road and a railroad track. When a little boy, I had three brothers, eight sisters, and a dog named Jack. There were no child labor laws for us, so I was fitted with a cotton sack. Hard work and so little play, were enough to make a kid turn bad. Hot summer days and sweaty summer nights are what we often had. So void of bountiful breezes, many summers were so awesomely sad. My brothers and I were often found riding with our dad in his pickup truck, and our heads blowing in the wind made us glad. So little freedom and justice were enough to drive us mad. Our days moved at snail's pace, and a better tomorrow always seemed to lag. We believed that the future was promising, but many of our days felt like nightmares, and many people lived deep inside of their nightmares and would drink away their cares. When I was little, people would often speak of needles in a haystack. It's true that much of life is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I once knew people who, against all odds, found that unfindable needle. After finding that needle and sewing their way clear out of the hay fields, they kept right on sewing and working through the tall grassy cotton, corn, and bean fields. So often, the only choices we have are, in a sense, evil; but we cast the best of the evil ballots. I learned a little bit of this kind of determination from 'needle people' when I was a little boy. These are the heroes I once knew deep down in America's southern land when I was a little boy. 08032018cj
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