and Aunt Polly both. Aunt Polly was a friend that was sold with her
every time. They was like sisters and the most pleasure to each other
in old age.

"My great-great-grandma said to grandma, 'Hurry back wid that pitcher
of water, honey, so you will have time to run by and see your mama and
the children and tell them good-bye. Old master says you going to be
sold early in the morning.' The water was for supper. That was the
last time she ever seen or heard of any of her own kin folks. Grandma
said a gang of them was sold next morning. Aunt Polly was no kin but
they was sold together. Whitfield bought one and Strum bought the
other.

"They come on a boat from Virginia to Aberdeen, Mississippi. They
wouldn't sell her mother because she brought fine children. I think
she said they had a regular stock man. She and Aunt Polly was sold
several times and together till freedom. When they got off the boat
they had to walk a right smart ways and grandma's feet cracked open
and bled. 'Black Mammy' wrapped her feet up in rags and greased them
with hot tallow or mutton suet and told her not to cry no more, be a
good girl and mind master and mistress.

"Grandma said she had a hard time all her life. She was my mother's
mother and she lived to be way over a hundred years old. Aunt Polly
lived with her daughter when she got old. Grandma died first. Then
Aunt Polly grieved so. She was old, old when she died. They still
lived close together, mostly together. Aunt Polly was real black; mama
was lighter. I called grandma 'mama' a right smart too. They called
each other 'sis'. Grandma said, 'I love sis so good.' Aunt Polly
lessened her days grieving for sis. They was both field hands. They
would tell us girls about how they lived when they was girls. We'd
cry.

"We lived in the country and we listened to what they said to us. If
it had been times then like now I wouldn't know to tell you. Folks is
in such a hurry somehow. Gone or going somewhere all the time.

"All my folks is most all full-blood African. I don't believe in races
mixing up. It is a sin. Grandma was the brightest one of any of us.
She was ginger-cake color.

"No, I don't vote. I don't believe in that neither.

"Times is too fast. Fast folks makes fast times. They all fast. Coming
to destruction."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Adaline Johnson
Joining the Plunkett farms
Eight miles from Biscoe,