Poor Lilly

My Aunt Tattie and Uncle Nib were always my favorite aunt and uncle. Aunt Tattie was my mama's second to the littlest sister, right before Aunt Sis.

We all lived really close to each other all our growing up lives, just a couple of ten sections away from one another. Grandmommie and Grandaddy lived to the east of us. Me, mama and daddy lived in the middle. Aunt Tattie and Uncle Nib and their four lived to the west. Their names were Cousin Stub, The Twins, and then there was Poor Lilly. (Poor Lily wasn't ever really right, if you know what I mean.)

After Grandmommie and Grandaddy died, all us grandkids got a little bit of money. Some more than others. Gma and Gpa had to help The Twins and Poor Lily out time and again when we were growing up. You know, some bail money when someone got caught with too much beer. One of them got into a little bit too much trouble and a lot of his inheritance money went to a Senator who got the record cleaned for a few years spent in the Army.  Poor Lily had to spend some time with our cousins in Arkansas for about seven months one summer and they paid for that. Each time something like that happened, Grandmommie and Granddaddy happily took care of it, but they also kept tabs on it. 

Stub and I both got full scholarships to college; I went to UT in Austin and Stub went to Southern Methodist. Since our tuitions were taken care of, Grandmommie and Grandaddy footed the bills for our respective college lives. They always said it cost less to help someone get an education rather than bail somebody out. There were no hard feelings amongst us kids because we all knew that's the way it was. Grandaddy always said "that's the way the cow ate the cabbage". I never saw any cow eat any cabbage, but that old man was pretty damn smart, so I guess that's the way it really was.

After college, I stayed in Austin and went to work in the film industry. Stub moved back home and made a killing in real estate and land management. The Twins moved to California and completely disappeared. That was during the Manson times and I have always wondered if they are both buried under the sand at Spahn Ranch. 

Poor Lilly got on drugs.

Stub bought all of us out of Grandmommie and Grandaddy's old home place, but let Poor Lilly live in the old farmhouse rent free, with the promise she would take care of it. The only problem was, Poor Lilly kept nickel and dimeing her inheritance on nickel and dime bags of pot and coke and kept asking Stub to supplement the upkeep of the farmhouse.

He kept giving it to her, full well knowing she would spend it on booze and drugs until he finally realized that, one of these days, his future would be in jeopardy.

One Sunday, as he was getting ready to go to church where he played the piano for the services, Lily called and wanted money to fix the leaky roof to the house. Stub knew she was only going to blow it up her nose and said "Lilly, I'm done up to my ass giving you money. As far as I care, you can just burn that goddamn house down to the ground and collect on the insurance".

Then he couldnt wait to get to church. He quickly fed the dogs, ran out and fed old Smokey the horse. Then, as he got in his truck, he thought he smelled smoke, like someone was barbecuing.

As he turned down the drive, and was about to pass within a half of mile of Lilly's house, he saw out of the corner of his eye smoke, snakey tendrils of black. He kept on driving. There were more important things to do this day. He had to get to church to play. 

Stub had never played Onward Christian Soldiers with so much energy, verve, and excitement in his life. It seemed the tempo had never been heard that fast, or that loud, in the Hard Shelled, First Baptist church building ever. The choir could hardly keep up. Later, a lot of folks wondered if maybe he'd done it to keep everybody from hearing the sound of sirens. As sweat beaded on his brow, he prayed to the good Lord that Poor Lily had not taken him at his word.