Lesson 23:No More Cotton Blues

More documents

Recommendations

Info

y George Capaccio Illustrated by Joanne Renaud Copyright © by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company All rights reserved. <strong>No</strong> part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner unless such copying is expressly permitted by federal copyright law. Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work should be addressed to Houghton Mifflin Harcourt School Publishers, Attn: Permissions, 6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777. Printed in China ISBN-13: 978-0-547-02198-0 ISBN-10: 0-547-02198-4 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 0940 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 If you have received these materials as examination copies free of charge, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt School Publishers retains title to the materials and they may not be resold. Resale of examination copies is strictly prohibited. Possession of this publication in print format does not entitle users to convert this publication, or any portion of it, into electronic format.
Looking Back I remember the day the war ended. My platoon had set up camp outside a small French village. We’d been hitting the Germans with everything we had. Then like that it was over. The German High Command had surrendered to the Allies. I knew I’d be going home with just a piece of shrapnel in my hand instead of all shot up like a lot of guys in my outfit. <strong>No</strong>w that’s a day I won’t ever forget — May 7, 1945. I’ve lived long enough to have plenty of memorable experiences. Some I’d just as soon forget — like back in the days of the panic crash. That’s what black folks called the Great Depression. Times were hard for everybody, but especially for blacks. In 1935, when I was only twelve, my family was sharecropping on a big cotton plantation right here in Georgia. Our farm was miles away from Atlanta, and my horizons were limited to how much cotton I could pick in the course of a day. I never dreamed my life would turn out the way it has. We lived in a run-down, two-room shack sitting on open farmland. The only plumbing we had was an outhouse and a wash basin. There was no electricity and no heating except for a wood-burning stove. My sister Ardell and I were in the fields from sunup to sundown every day of the harvest. My father had about twenty acres of good farmland. Of course, none of the land was his. It all belonged to Oliver Hopkins and his wife Charlene. They owned one of the biggest plantations in all of Jefferson County. 2
Page 1: HOUGHTON MIFFLIN
Page 6 and 7: I can still see him riding toward u
Page 8 and 9: Ardell and I glanced at each other.
Page 10 and 11: My brother Kermit had asked me to c
Page 12: house on Sweet Auburn Avenue. He ca
Page 15 and 16: He even figured out how many more a
Page 17 and 18: “But all along Atlanta’s Sweet
Page 19 and 20: Life in Georgia My uncle helped us
Page 21 and 22: TARGET VOCABULARY confronting conte

Lesson 23:No More Cotton Blues

Create successful ePaper yourself

Delete template?

Save as template?