Tunga White: Testing one, two, three. Mrs. Atkins, before I ask you questions about yourself, can you tell me if you remember your grandparents? 

Earnestine Atkins: Yes, I remember my grandparents were very well. 

Tunga White: What were their names, your maternal and your paternal? 

Earnestine Atkins: Both my mother's mother is Mrs. Liza Frazier, and my grandfather was Mr. Leon Gardner, on my mother's side. On my father's side is my grandmother is Mrs. Carrie Reynolds and Mr. Freddy Reynolds. My stepdad was Mr. James Singleton. My step grandfather was James Washington. 

Tunga White: This is on your paternal side? 

Earnestine Atkins: Mm-hm. 

Tunga White: Were they all from the area? 

Earnestine Atkins: They all were from, except my step grandfather. He was from Savannah, Georgia. 

Tunga White: When did he become your step grandfather? 

Earnestine Atkins: From the beginning? He was not married to my grandmother, in other words. 

Tunga White: On your mother's side, what did her parents do for you? 

Earnestine Atkins: On my mother's side, my parents actually worked the fields on the farm, raise, just sell beans and peas and little garden stuff to take to town and sell it to the neighborhood people. 

Tunga White: They were land owners? 

Earnestine Atkins: Right. Exactly. 

Tunga White: Do you know around how much land they owned? 

Earnestine Atkins: On my mother's side, my grandmother's side, they had owned a 24 acre tract at some point, and they had owned a five acre tract at another point and a three acre tract at another point. There was some more that I don't know about that, that are heirs' property. 

Tunga White: Do you know if there was any time when they did any renting or shopping in their life, or were they always land owners? 

Earnestine Atkins: Any renting? 

Tunga White: Uh, huh. 

Earnestine Atkins: Like? 

Tunga White: [indistinct 00:02:39]. 

Earnestine Atkins: No. During those times they didn't rent land. All the community people could use any property that belongs to the community people. In other words, if you live within a mile or so, if you have some property, you could just ask, "I want to plant some beans. I want to plant some watermelon," and it was just like a shared deal with the community. But no, they never rent and they had enough to farm one. 

Tunga White: I'm trying to understand this shared community. Who owned the land? The community went together and bought the land? 

Earnestine Atkins: No. Each land— 

Tunga White: Owner. 

Earnestine Atkins: —owner had property but they were adjacent to each other. If you didn't have space on yours and the other family or the other friend were near you that had a cleared piece of property that they always farm, and if they didn't farm it and have space, we could go over and my grandmother could go over, and she could plant a few rows of whatever on their part. It's like shared property, actually. 

Tunga White: On your father side, what did they do? 

Earnestine Atkins: My father did the same thing. My grandmother had property too, and they didn't farm so much. They had, we call it fields, gardens, but right around the house. They had probably around the house that we could just plant vegetable for family use and for living. 

Tunga White: Now each one of your grandparents, how far were they from your house that you were brought up in? 

Earnestine Atkins: I actually lived right near my father's mother. We lived with her, actually, for a long while until my dad got married and he built his own little house. But that was within two or three miles of each other. 

Tunga White: How far was the other side? 

Earnestine Atkins: The other side was really right across the river on another island. It took about five minutes by boat. Walking distance, if you had to walk around, it would, I would say, take about maybe 20 minutes, 30 minutes to walk. 

Tunga White: Now what island were you? 

Earnestine Atkins: Warsaw. 

Tunga White: Your step grandfather James Washington, he was farming, too? 

Earnestine Atkins: No, he wasn't into farming. No, I don't think he was into farming so much. I think family members, when they plant, I think everybody plant together and everybody harvest together. He left and went away to New York. Actually, James Washington is really my father's father, and Freddy Reynolds is really my grandmother's first husband. I had that backwards kind of. In other words, my father was born out of wedlock. 

Tunga White: Okay. James Washington is your father's fathers. 

Earnestine Atkins: Mm-hm. 

Tunga White: [indistinct 00:06:19] first husband. 

Earnestine Atkins: Right. 

Tunga White: You said he went to New York. Do you know why New York? Did he have relatives in New York? 

Earnestine Atkins: Yeah, he did have relatives there. He was one of the older relatives himself. But during those times there wasn't any work. During that time, they just moved up north to make a life to live and try to help make money and send it back home for the children. 

Tunga White: So you know what [indistinct 00:06:54]? 

Earnestine Atkins: I don't quite remember. I know he work, and I think it's with the transit. I'm not sure. It's either that or the post office. 

Tunga White: Your parents' full name? 

Earnestine Atkins: My mother and father, Mr. And Mrs. —because my mother is Mazie Atkins and my father is Ed Atkins. 

Tunga White: How do you spell Mazie? 

Earnestine Atkins: M-A-Z-I-E. 

Tunga White: Your father's name again? 

Earnestine Atkins: Ed. 

Tunga White: Now did they have a lot of brothers and sister? 

Earnestine Atkins: My father was the only son. He had four sisters by his mother, and he took care of all the sisters under him. Even all four of them are living now. 

Tunga White: Are they still in the area? 

Earnestine Atkins: One is on outside Helena. One is in Hilton Head now. She moved back three years ago from New York. Two of them still live in New York. 

Tunga White: How about on your mother's side? 

Earnestine Atkins: On my mother's side it was just two. It was she and her sister. She had some outside sisters and brothers, but by her mother it was just two of them. 

Tunga White: I think we were talking about your parents' siblings. You said your mother had a sister. 

Earnestine Atkins: Had one sister. 

Tunga White: [indistinct 00:08:54]. 

Earnestine Atkins: August 7. 

Tunga White: Did your mother do any work outside of the home? 

Earnestine Atkins: My mother, yes. My mother was a midwife, and she worked with to the crab factory. She picked oysters. Later in life, she worked in the school system in lunchroom. Generally, she was self-employed, actually, most of her life. 

Tunga White: Was she a midwife throughout her life and she just did the other work on— 

Earnestine Atkins: She was a midwife early on when we were very young. When I was born, I think my second brother after me, which is about four years younger than me, I think my mother stopped midwifing then, because this is when the hospital actually were open and you could have babies in the hospital. 

Tunga White: Around what year was that? 

Earnestine Atkins: Boy, she midwives up through about 1944 maybe. Up to that point I would say. Because I was born in the hospital, so she didn't deliver. It could be give and take three years more. I'm not quite sure. 

Tunga White: Did she ever talk about what started her as midwife? 

Earnestine Atkins: Yeah, people lived so far apart from each other. There was another lady that lived not very far from her, who practiced midwives, and she taught her. People, during those days, had to, since it wasn't a hospital to deliver children, there was babies born, and she just went with her and picked up skills. 

Tunga White: Like an apprentice. 

Earnestine Atkins: Right. She picked up the skills with her, and she just went into it from that point. 

Tunga White: Do you know the name of that midwife that she worked under? 

Earnestine Atkins: Yes, I do. She's still living, matter of fact. 

Tunga White: What? 

Earnestine Atkins: Lillian. What's her last name? It might be Lillian Simmons, but she live in, —That's one person I'd like you to talk with before. 

Tunga White: Does she live— 

Earnestine Atkins: She lives right on 21, matter of fact, right on 21. 

Tunga White: Does she live near [indistinct 00:11:25]? 

Earnestine Atkins: Mm-hm. 

Tunga White: Because I know I met some lady. 

Earnestine Atkins: Okay. 

Tunga White: I think some of [indistinct 00:11:32]. Because I went to school with one of the—a girl that married one of the sons—her name is Patrice Coney. Now, she's [indistinct 00:11:46]. She got married a couple years ago. 

Earnestine Atkins: Patrice? 

Tunga White: She from Mississippi. 

Earnestine Atkins: Okay. Oh, right. 

Tunga White: Sing in the choir. 

Earnestine Atkins: Right, I know her. She goes to Brick. She married to— 

Tunga White: I can't think of his name. 

Earnestine Atkins: I almost said Leon, but it's Leon's brother, too. How can I not know his name? I'm looking right him. 

Tunga White: I am, too. 

Earnestine Atkins: I know. But I know who she —She lives right in Houston. She lives in my community. I live in that community. 

Tunga White: Oh, wow. [indistinct 00:12:20]. 

Earnestine Atkins: We call him Boo, but it's not boo. It's something else. Jerome. 

Tunga White: That's right. That's his name. Yeah, that's right. That's his name. Okay. Did she ever talk much about her experiences as a midwife? 

Earnestine Atkins: She didn't talk a lot. I guess she did. Yeah, I guess she did, and she didn't to us later on. Yeah, she talked about how she had to walk miles to deliver. Sometimes, when you are a midwife, if you're pregnant, most pregnant mothers usually call or usually send messages to the person who they want to deliver the baby. This is how they did that. If there were five or six midwives, then whichever one they wanted to deliver, then they would send message to that person and tell that person she should be delivering in June, such and such a day, and be on guard, be on notes so when time come. Because sometimes they may have to go in and stay overnight a couple of days at that person's home. 

Tunga White: What a pregnant woman would do would be consult with the doctor about the pregnancy and then just advise the midwife around the time she was due— 

Earnestine Atkins: Right. Time she was due. 

Tunga White: —so they could be prepared— 

Earnestine Atkins: They could be prepared to be there for the delivery. Mm-hm. 

Tunga White: You said sometimes they would stay more than just the birth day. 

Earnestine Atkins: Right. 

Tunga White: They would stay [indistinct 00:13:49]- 

Earnestine Atkins: Stay long because they would have to help them through that whole process. During those time, they had to walk, so they couldn't just go and leave and come back. They had to just be around for a while. 

Tunga White: Now if there were some kind of complications with the birth, would a doctor then be consulted or they manage some of it? 

Earnestine Atkins: As far as I know, I think most of the midwives just manage and did what they could. After the baby was born, if there's any complications, then they would somehow try to get the baby to the doctor. But then long time ago, too, there was a local doctor, Dr. Bailey, who was here, who also was a then Helena person, the doctor. He would be the one sometimes to go along with midwives, too, on deliveries. 

Tunga White: Now did your mother or any other midwives deliver White babies or was it just strictly in the Black community? 

Earnestine Atkins: No, I think just in the Black community, that I know of. 

Tunga White: You said she also did work at a crab factory. Did she start this after— 

Earnestine Atkins: No, that was ongoing from little children, from on up into, she —That was their livelihood. That was how they —Between the farming and picking oysters and going in the river, that was their livelihood. That's all they knew how to do best. 

Tunga White: Can you tell me some about the crab and the oyster industry? 

Earnestine Atkins: In the oyster industry, my father and mother actually were a team. My mother and father were from Jump Street, were always —That was their self-employed business. My dad used to work for the oyster co-op or the oyster factory, which he picked oysters and took it to sell to the factory. She also, on the side, open oysters, shuck oysters and made some sales that way to help keep money in the home. She also went out there with him to pick oysters. That was a job for them. My father was never employed anywhere. Only thing he knew is seafood, oysters, crabs, seasonal. When it's time for oysters, he'd pick oysters all winter. Crab season, he would have his trap and he would take crabs to the crab house. My mother, at the same time, she worked at the crab house, so they used to pick crab. Used to be a business. A crab house we call it. During that time, that employed people to do the crab picking process. She worked there for many, many years. 

Tunga White: Did she ever mention pay? What would— 

Earnestine Atkins: During those time, honey, pay was nothing. If they brought home $3 a week, that was good money, because you could take a dollar and do shopping for everything in your house during those days. You would come home with a whole heap of things for a dollar. 

Tunga White: Did you or any of your siblings also help them? 

Earnestine Atkins: Yes, we all did as we grew up from little ones. We just got the water for them and put it in the tub and make the fire, get the wood. We all, from little ones. I would say after five years old. And even younger than that we could go and pull a little limb or something. Everybody assisted in every way that we could. When we got big enough, like five and six, we could really go and get wood from out the fields and just pile it up for them, that kind of a thing. We all were a family unit in terms of helping. If that didn't happen, there was one family member who stayed in the house, just kept the kids in the house while the older ones go outside and help them. 

Earnestine Atkins: As the years go on, we would shift position. If someone did it this week, the next week, maybe the other person would work. But the ones who really actually did it were the ones who enjoyed doing it most. If I like doing it, then I always help. If I didn't, if I like to stay in the house, then I always stayed in the house. If it got to the point where any discrepancies came in, then we would shift gear, give everyone a chance to do it. Because sometimes, during those times, we say, "This one lazy. Don't like to do a lot. This one like to stay in the house a lot. Why can't I babysit and let the other one?" We shared and shift position as it went on through the years. 

Tunga White: Now which type of work did you do? 

Earnestine Atkins: I prefer doing the outdoor work. 

Tunga White: Really? 

Earnestine Atkins: I opening the oysters. I prefer making the fire. I prefer helping my mom and dad. That's what I did best. 

Tunga White: Now, what kind of activities were there for the ones who opted or they were trying to stay home and do the work around the house? 

Earnestine Atkins: What were the activities? They had to mop the house. Although we had a low-down decrepit house, my mother believed in keeping those floors scrubbed. She believed in keeping that house clean. She believed in washing those clothes in the wash tub. She believed strictly hanging clothes on the line and in order. In order meant all the sheets together, all the towels together, all the panties, all the face cloth, those kinds of —She believe in never mix up the colored with the whites. We always wash all the whites together and then all the darks together. She brought us up that way. 

Tunga White: So your day would also entail babysitting? 

Earnestine Atkins: Oh, yeah. 

Tunga White: And cooking? 

Earnestine Atkins: Cooking, babysitting, the whole chunk. Then within that, each one had their own little duties. If I'm to mop the floor, then I wait till my sister clean up. Then I'll mop. Then if it's hot, then everyone would go outside until the floor it's done and dry, because we didn't believe, during those time, if you mop, someone walk over your floor. That would be a fight. You mop that floor, you let the floor dry. Don't you walk on my floor. Those kinds of things. Two person may wash the clothes. One may wash and the other may hang up, rinse, hang up. And we shift that position. 

Tunga White: You have brothers, right? 

Earnestine Atkins: Yes. 

Tunga White: What did they do? Did their own—? 

Earnestine Atkins: They were always outdoor—ones who help outdoors. They were always, and they were in the river with my dad. They were always on the farm, in the fields, all of that. 

Tunga White: Now, where was this crab house? 

Earnestine Atkins: In Port Royal. Please do. 

Tunga White: Now, how would they get there? 

Earnestine Atkins: During that time, I believe, if I can remember, seem like they had people to pick up people at points or people used carpool. Before that, some people used to just walk. If they lived in the neighborhood, they would walk. During those times, too, they probably rode them buggies or horse carts. 

Tunga White: As a young child, do you remember if different people in the area you lived in had cars or was it just a couple people? Do you know? 

Earnestine Atkins: Way back there was just a couple of people. Just a couple of people, and those people transported other people around to do a lot of things. Yeah, I remember on my mother's side family, there was one guy, one man in the family who had a car. During those time, it wasn't like the male of the community, but he was a key person in the community. Everyone in that community looked at him for support. He was the one who took them to the boat landing to get on a boat to go shop, to Beaufort. When they bring their packages back, he would be the one to take them home. He would be the one who would plant a lot of vegetables and whatever, and he would share with the whole community, the whole area. People just look up at him as the key person, too, for support. But he was the one who pulled the whole community together. 

Tunga White: What was the name? 

Earnestine Atkins: Ramsey Gardener, I believe. To make sure, I need to probably get that name to you at a later date. Go on. 

Tunga White: Now, how is he related to your mother? 

Earnestine Atkins: He was my mother's little boy. My mother and father was his brother. 

Tunga White: Okay. 

Earnestine Atkins: It was my mother's uncle. Something like that. 

Tunga White: Now, did a lot of people in the area that you lived make a living— 

Earnestine Atkins: All. Practically— 

Tunga White: —with that seafood [indistinct 00:24:00]? 

Earnestine Atkins: Practically all of them. Practically all of them in the community, off the farm and working on other people's farm. 

Tunga White: Would you say, in the area that you were raised, there were more subsistent farming or large scale farming by the people? 

Earnestine Atkins: There were more consistent, I should say, because everybody had their own little property that they plant their own little thing and then food for them. During those times, I remember they had little trucks that come and would buy tomatoes, and everybody plant their own fields and pick their own things and sell it to that truck. 

Tunga White: Can you describe the house that you were raised in? 

Earnestine Atkins: It was a little two room house, the first one before the storm. One bedroom and a kitchen, very small, at that point, when I was born, with a wood stove. I remember we used to sleep. My mother used to pad the floor and some of us would sleep in the bed with her and dad, whatever space we had, as at that time the family wasn't as large. Since then, we built another four room house, built five with the bathroom. There was three bedrooms, a living room, dining room, kitchen. 

Tunga White: Now, is— 

Earnestine Atkins: We lived there for a long time. 

Tunga White: That first house, when did you all move out that place? 

Earnestine Atkins: Gee. Mm. 

Tunga White: You said before before a storm? Before a storm? 

Earnestine Atkins: Boy, I wish your mom was here, because she could tell you verbatim. Probably she wouldn't mix that around, because she tells us all the time. When the 1940 storm came, my —Oh gosh, my brother was 1940. I wasn't born yet, as I remembered. My oldest brother —Was he older than me? My oldest brother was just born. Yeah, either right then or right after that, because I know he escaped the storm somehow. That's when the first house before the little one I told you was, when my grandmother was. That one was destroyed. Then they built this other little one that I was living in. Now, we were little children. They had a storm before that. But the 1940 storm was the biggest storm that destroyed lives of people. 

Tunga White: That was a hurricane? The big one? 

Earnestine Atkins: Mm-hm. Hurricane. 

Tunga White: That first house, the two room house that you mentioned first, how many people lived in there? 

Earnestine Atkins: My mother, my father, my two oldest sister and me, because I had two more siblings, but they didn't live with us. My oldest brother at the time lived with my grandmother, and my third oldest sister lived with my grandmother. It was my oldest sister, my second oldest sister and me. 

Tunga White: Now which grandmother was this? 

Earnestine Atkins: That's my mother's mother. 

Tunga White: This is both of the brother and the sister? They both lived— 

Earnestine Atkins: Lived with my grandmother, my mother's mother. 

Tunga White: Why were they there? 

Earnestine Atkins: They were with the grandmother because my mother and dad used to go out a lot in the fields and the river, and they didn't have anyone to keep the kids. My grandmother didn't have anyone to —She was like the person that stayed home, so she kept all the children. From her two children, she kept all the oldest children. So all the older children from her two children, she actually raised. It was during that time that they just had to get out and work, so she kept them because she really —They all had a house. They left from my grandmother's house, so they had a place to go. When my mother met my father, she was living with my father's mother. So there wasn't really a lot of room there for the children to stay. So my grandmother asked her to let her keep the kids over there because my mother was working and helping my dad in the river. 

Tunga White: Can you describe the condition of your first house you mentioned in the second one? Very good? Good? Poor? Half dead? 

Earnestine Atkins: Okay. The first house was, like I said, a two room house. It was a strong little house, but it was because we lived there for a while, it got weak and we knew we had to move. We stayed there until my dad could build another. More space, let's put it that way. This is when he moved from the little house, like maybe from here to down the street to another house. He built that one. This house was a strong little house, actually, the second house, that I can remember, the three bedrooms. My sister and my brother never really came back to live with us, but this is when my mother had another child. So we all moved in there because she was pregnant and needed more space. My dad kind of built that because of the extension family. 

Tunga White: Now, what school did you attend? 

Earnestine Atkins: I attend St. Helena Elementary School and High School. At that time it was a elementary and high school. Matter of fact, I started there the first year was built, in 1953. I started the very first year when Penn Center closed here. When the school started, then I started my very first class. We were the first ones to have gone from first grade through high school at that school. We were the first class to graduate from that school, for 12 years. 

Tunga White: Then your oldest siblings, what schools did they go to? 

Earnestine Atkins: They all went to St. Helena. They all went there. Everybody in the family graduated from St. Helene except for my two baby brothers, I believe. I'm not sure if my baby sister graduated. She may have graduated from another school. But the first six, I believe, the six of the children —Children are Betty, Bell, me, Ida. Ida. I think the first six of us graduated, went 12 years, or the first five. My oldest brother didn't finish school, so it would be five. But the five of us graduated from St. Helena Elementary. The other, Mary, Ricky, [indistinct 00:32:19]—The other five went there until they —During that time, they was switched from junior or elementary school. Then they had to be transferred to Beaufort High School. So during the high school, the other set of fam— 

Tunga White: During integration went. 

Earnestine Atkins: Right, exactly. 

Tunga White: You said your oldest brother didn't finish school. 

Earnestine Atkins: He didn't. 

Tunga White: He stopped and worked? 

Earnestine Atkins: He had to work. He had to work. He had to work to support us. 

Tunga White: What age or what grade did he stop? 

Earnestine Atkins: I never knew that. I believe Joe stopped in the 10th grade. I'm not sure, but I need to —Let me make sure of that. I never really asked him that. 

Tunga White: He worked with the family or worked out [indistinct 00:33:11]? 

Earnestine Atkins: He worked with the family. He actually worked on Warsaw with my grandmother, with the family, through the waters, on the waters somehow. Gosh, that's been some days. I've hadn't never talked to him. 

Tunga White: That's what everybody says. [indistinct 00:33:31]. 

Earnestine Atkins: Yeah. 

Tunga White: Now, can you recall some of your teachers you had when you were young? 

Earnestine Atkins: Oh, yeah. I can recall [indistinct 00:33:46]. My very first year at St. Helena, I had a Ms. Shepherd and Ms. Devore, Ms. Henderson. They were some of the best teachers in the world. Matter of fact, my first grade teachers are still living. 

Tunga White: Really? 

Earnestine Atkins: Mm-hm. A couple. One of them died three, four years ago. But right now I still communicate with my first year teachers. 

Tunga White: That's cool. Can you think of other elementary teachers? 

Earnestine Atkins: Those ones stuck in my mind more than the others, actually. I remember my grammar school, my mid school teachers. I remember all of them. I know all of them now. They all are living now. 

Tunga White: Can you name some of the middle school teachers? These are your middle school teachers? 

Earnestine Atkins: Yeah, like 6th, 7th, 8th. Yeah. Mr. Boyd, Mr. Young, Mrs. Faulkner, Mrs. Hudson, Mr. Beasley. 

Tunga White: [indistinct 00:35:05]. 

Earnestine Atkins: That's him. He was my principal. 

Tunga White: Okay. [indistinct 00:35:10]— 

Earnestine Atkins: Mm-hm, Mr. Beasley. Oh, boy. Mrs. Matthew. I'm only talking local folks now. Mr. Felix, did I give you that one? 

Tunga White: Nope. Is that Wesley? 

Earnestine Atkins: Wesley Felix, mm-hm. 

Tunga White: Did— 

Earnestine Atkins: I could name some older folks that are dead now. I mean teachers. 

Tunga White: That's fine. 

Earnestine Atkins: Mrs. Boyd, the deceased one, Mrs. Boyd. Mrs. —Gosh. Mrs. —Oh, she just came to mind. Mrs. Boyd. Mrs. Fripp. All the old I remember very well. Mrs. Washington. Gosh. Mrs. Henderson, I gave you that one? 

Tunga White: Uh, huh. 

Earnestine Atkins: She's deceased. Gosh. Gosh. I'm trying to vision back into those classrooms. Mr H. Gosh. Those ones stuck out in my mind most, because I just had good, good, good thoughts with them. 

Tunga White: Did any time you were going to school, did they ever have home visits or did the teachers ever come your home to [indistinct 00:37:12]? 

Earnestine Atkins: Yeah, they did. Matter of fact, some of those ones were people who lived in the community. So they had no choice. During those times, to be real honest with you, if something happened at school, I don't know how they knew, but by the time you got home that evening, my parents knew and they would give you a good behind cutting that would last you until you got to them. Then you didn't have to go home to your parents. You could just go to a sitter or to a neighbor, to a aunt or uncle or to another parent's home until your mom come home, and they would also cut your behind. When you get home —It seemed like there's something in the air that sends a message. I'm serious. When you get home, she said, "Now child, what you did today?" "Mom—" "Don't you lie to me." 

Tunga White: Oh, my goodness. 

Earnestine Atkins: Then it was, "Come here. Go get that switch. Go over there and get that switch, and you bring that switch here." She would take that and she would give us a good one. Now said, "Next time something happen, don't you ever come home and tell me a lie. I can see. I can look in your eyes and tell you did something." They had the wisdom. I don't how [indistinct 00:38:18] yet. 

Tunga White: They had a good system going. 

Earnestine Atkins: Don't miss and tell. Don't miss and another parent tell my mom and I didn't tell her and I lied to her. Oh man, punished during those days weren't punished like now. They were different kind of punished. They were bad punishment, but they weren't abusive. You know what I'm saying? 

Tunga White: Mm-hm. Now, in your family, who was the disciplinarian? 

Earnestine Atkins: My mom. 

Tunga White: You mom? 

Earnestine Atkins: Mm-hmm. My mom always. 

Tunga White: Did your father ever get on to you? 

Earnestine Atkins: My dad got on me, but not as much. My dad whipped me real good one time, and I had needed a whipping for that, because I really was out of hand. But my dad whipped me once. But my dad never, never wanted to do that. My mother was always the discipline person in the family. 

Tunga White: Did she discipline all the children, male and female? 

Earnestine Atkins: Everyone. Didn't matter. Big, little, or small, I don't care. She disciplined all of them. 

Tunga White: Around what age did the whipping stop, did she no longer whip the children? 

Earnestine Atkins: When we got, I would say, in high school. I would say in high school. 

Tunga White: Did— 

Earnestine Atkins: But I tell you what. 

Tunga White: What? 

Earnestine Atkins: The whipping got stopped in high school, but even —My mother died. It was three years, this past March. Up until, I guess, about six months before that, I would never do anything wrong in her eyesight. I would never curse, do anything wrong. I was grown. I was at least good 44. I would never do anything. I would never let her hear me say anything wrong or lie about anything or do anything that I know, because she always knew. Like I said, I had a boyfriend. I was grown, out of college, finished everything. I would never —And I live alone. I live like right from here to that building from my mom. I would never let my boyfriend come to my house and, say, stay overnight, or I'll never let her see him come to the house hardly. I would just- 

Tunga White: As an adult? 

Earnestine Atkins: As an adult. 

Tunga White: When you were a grown woman taking care of yourself? Grown, you still— 

Earnestine Atkins: I don't know. It was just something she instilled in us when we were very young. I think that's why they had never gotten pregnant, because my mother used to drill us and she used to say to us, "If you get pregnant —If you look at a man, you're pregnant." 

Tunga White: What? 

Earnestine Atkins: She said, "If you even touch one, you had your baby." I'm serious. That thing just, I went to college with it in my mind. But she always said to us, she says, "I had children when I was young, because that was something to do. We didn't have nothing to entertain us. We didn't have no place to go. But we had fun, because we could go to each other's home and we could have little parties here and there. And this is how we met our men. We used to go to games. We used to walk to ballgames. We walked down the road and you meet up into a friend to get a kiss, a hug and get a little teasing, go about your the business. No one ever knew." 

Earnestine Atkins: She said they knew they did wrong in those days, but to them it wasn't wrong because that was their life. But since we came up, a lot of opportunities are there for us, so it's so much easier. She didn't want us to fall into those same footpath that they went through, so she tried to teach us the things. She said, "I really want you to go to school." She said, "I didn't have the opportunity to," but they knew education was important, but they just didn't know how to do it, and they couldn't do it because they had to work for survival. 

Tunga White: How about education did your mother have? 

Earnestine Atkins: My mother went to the 10th grade, and my father went to eighth grade, or either six and eight, or eight and 10, something like that, one or the other. But they had that wit. They had that strength, and they had that wisdom to know about family, rearing of children. During those times, it could have been abusive, but they didn't kill us. They taught us, in their talking, right from wrong. We understood that. We knew when they say do something, we knew to go and do it. We knew if they look us like, they knew if we looked them in the eye like this, they knew they met business. If they had company, they knew if they interfere with our— 

Speaker 1: [indistinct 00:42:58]. 

Earnestine Atkins: I'll tell you. It's mine. 

Speaker 1: Okay. [indistinct 00:43:04]. 

Earnestine Atkins: Thank you, baby. It's mine. 

Speaker 1: Got it. 

Earnestine Atkins: Thank you. They knew if they had company, if we came to interrupt them, they knew if they just —that, we knew. We knew just to go back and wait. We knew if we had dinner, if we had company at the house, we knew if they fed us first before the company come, they knew we'd better not come back until they leave. Or if we knew that they were feeding them, especially the pastor, if we had fried chicken —We didn't have all those good luxury things in those days. That was a delicacy. When the pastor go, we eat what left. That kind of a thing. But they fed us. They made sure we ate. You see what I'm saying? We may not have gotten a nice dinner fried chicken, that drumstick. We may have gotten a neck, or we may have gotten a wing, or we may eaten the back, but we knew. But we knew the custom. 

Speaker 1: That's good. 

Earnestine Atkins: We knew the value. We understood all those things. We never questioned it, because we just knew it's just something that happened. 

Tunga White: Would you say they were very strict? Your parents were really strict compared to other children's? 

Earnestine Atkins: I think they were strict then, way much 20 years ago. They were certainly much stricter than it is now. But they were strict, but at the same time was disciplined for it. It was teaching us values and customs and way of life. Had not that happened to me, I don't think I would've been where I am today. I knew I think I would've gone astray. Because all those things that they instill in us, it's really still within me. I'm glad of that, because I know how to maneuver myself and I know how to make judgment and to do things, what's appropriate and what's inappropriate for me. But it ha have for that, I think I really would've gone astray, because I could vision myself. I could vision my brother, and I can vision my daughter, the generation gap. You see what I'm saying? That's totally different between the three. 

Earnestine Atkins: The kids coming up with everything that they have it at hand, they never thought those things were never there 30 years ago. They thought those things were always there. See, when I came up, we didn't have those things, so it was not a part of me. Even now, I don't watch TV very much. Just the news and little things are special that comes on. I'm just not into that. Whereas, my daughter— 

Tunga White: You're more so [indistinct 00:45:46]— 

Earnestine Atkins: —more so into all —Exactly. But this is one of the special things I would look at from a long time ago. I would look at that. That would entertain me. See what I'm saying? There's a lot of value there. 

Tunga White: Your [indistinct 00:46:14] would you say? Would your parents [indistinct 00:46:14]? 

Earnestine Atkins: Their parents had the same kind of values as they, kind of customs, the same kind of traditions, the same. Because, during those time, families worked together. Families took care of families. What my cousin or what my friend family would say or do, my family would do the same thing for them. In other words, if my mother didn't see me in two or three days, I could be with a family. She was okay, because she knew that family would have the same kind of rules and regulation that she had, because they all used to unite and communicate with each other. And they all had the same kind of community thinking. And—