Oseola
Oseola.
Say the name aloud. It sounds like the name of a flower.
Like silk, like perfume, like pink pearls.
In fact, it’s the name of a simple woman from humble
beginnings who worked hard her whole life and had something to show for it when
she died. Oseola McCarty.
Oseola, conceived in rape, was born in rural Mississippi in
1908. She was raised by her mother, grandmother, and her aunt who all made
their living by cleaning and cooking for other people. The family of four moved
to Hattiesburg, Mississippi, in 1916 and Oseola lived there the rest of her
life.
As a little girl, Oseola was drawn to washing clothes. Her
mother let her start on simple things like washing socks. Then the older women
taught her how to iron. When she was around 10 years old, her teacher privately
asked her who ironed her clothes. When Oseola said she did it herself, her
teacher asked what she would charge to iron a linen dress.
“Ten cents,” came Oseola’s quiet reply.
But when the teacher saw her dress freshly washed and
pressed, she paid Oseola a quarter. After that, “the work just seemed to come,”
Oseola said.
Oseola’s aunt became an invalid when Oseola was about 12
years old and Oseola left school to help care for her. She fell behind in
school and never returned. But she found joy in doing laundry. “I knew there
were people who didn’t have to work as hard as I did, but it didn’t make me
feel sad. I loved to work, and when you love to do anything, those
things don’t bother you. Work is a blessing.”
From the beginning Oseola was a saver. As a child she tucked
her earnings in a doll baby buggy her grandmother had given her—the previous
owners were going to throw it away. Then one day, she walked past a bank and
decided her money would be better off there. She opened a checking account
(though she only remembered writing one check). Every month she’d pay the
bills, put a little bit in the collection plate of the Friendship Baptist
Church, and take anything that was left to the bank.
Eventually her friends at the bank advised her to put her
money in a savings account where it would earn more interest. Then they
suggested Certificates of Deposit, known as CDs.
She lived frugally, wearing hand-me-down clothes, taping
together the pages of her worn Bible. Never owned a car. “My secret was
contentment. I was happy with what I had,” she said.
By the time she was 60, her grandmother, mother, and aunt
had died. “I was alone, except for the Lord,” she said. In her 80s she finally
quit working; the arthritis in her hands was too painful.
“Hard work gives your life meaning,” she said. “Everyone
needs to work hard at something to feel good about themselves. Every job can be
done well and every day has its satisfactions. If you want to feel proud of
yourself, you’ve got to do things you can be proud of.”
And again her bank had a conversation with her. Knowing she
had set aside a tidy sum, one of the bank officers asked her what she’d like to
do with her money. Being sure she had the resources she’d need to live, he gave
her ten dimes and had her divide up her money by designating those dimes to the
people or organizations she would like to support.
She set aside one dime for the Friendship Baptist Church.
A dime for each of her three cousins.
And six dimes for a dream she’d treasured for years.
“I want to help some child go to college,” she said. “I’m
going to give the rest of my money to the University of Southern Mississippi
[in her hometown of Hattiesburg] so deserving children can get a good
education. I want to help African-American children who are eager for learning
like I was, but whose families can’t afford to send them to school.”
The contribution totaled $150,000. When the people of
Hattiesburg learned what Oseola had done, they added to her contribution, more
than tripling her original endowment.
Word of her unusual generosity spread widely until even
President Bill Clinton learned what she had done. He presented her with
a Presidential Citizens Medal, the nation’s second highest civilian award,
Other awards and recognition followed.
But what mattered to Oseola was that she was going to make a
difference in the lives of young people in her hometown. Today, the University
of Southern Mississippi presents several full-tuition scholarships in her name
every year.
She told one interviewer, “I am proud that I worked hard and
that my money will help young people who worked hard to deserve it. I’m proud
that I am leaving something positive in this world. My only regret is that I
didn’t have more to give.”
Oseola.
Say it aloud. Let the name remind you that work is a blessing, contentment a
multiplier, and generosity a reward.
