“Billie Jo”
Billie Jo was my mother’s sister, making her my aunt. She is fondly remembered for her tantrums and open-mouth disease. A tall, statuesque lady, she dressed to the hilt to go to the grocery. Every bleached blonde hair on her head was in place. When I visualize her, it is standing over the stove, stirring something, with a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. She talked around the cigarette, sometimes humming, but most often spouting off about her daily life.
“Got to go the damn mill,” she would voice each and every morning. She didn’t work in a mill, but I suppose she considered the restaurant in which she worked “the mill.” She didn’t actually “work” in the restaurant; she owned it, and served as the hostess.
Billie Jo always started her day in what my grandmother termed as a “warpath day." “Billie is up, everybody go hide,” she would say, hearing the hairbrush thrown against the bathroom sink. From a run in her hosiery to that one hair being out of place, she would jolt the household with her expletives.
Her open-mouth disease describes a very opinionated woman who voiced each and every thought that popped up in her head, although she was somewhat discreet in her manner of expressing it. “Do you like that dress you’re wearing?” really meant she didn’t like it. “Where did you get that lipstick?” was not asking you where she could pick up the same color. If you knew her very well, her face became quite readable. It was the left arched eyebrow that warned you of two things: One, get out of her way immediately, or two, brace yourself for an onslaught of recrimination.
But....I miss her. She was funny, humorously funny, quirky funny and, above all, when she walked into a room, you thought you were in the presence of royalty. With her head held high, every bleached-blonde hair in place, and an arched left eyebrow, she didn’t simply “walk” into a room - she strutted into it.....that’s what I liked best about her.
Most of us have to “go to the damn mill” each morning - maybe we should learn to walk into our “mills” with our heads held high.
Billie Jo was my mother’s sister, making her my aunt. She is fondly remembered for her tantrums and open-mouth disease. A tall, statuesque lady, she dressed to the hilt to go to the grocery. Every bleached blonde hair on her head was in place. When I visualize her, it is standing over the stove, stirring something, with a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. She talked around the cigarette, sometimes humming, but most often spouting off about her daily life.
“Got to go the damn mill,” she would voice each and every morning. She didn’t work in a mill, but I suppose she considered the restaurant in which she worked “the mill.” She didn’t actually “work” in the restaurant; she owned it, and served as the hostess.
Billie Jo always started her day in what my grandmother termed as a “warpath day." “Billie is up, everybody go hide,” she would say, hearing the hairbrush thrown against the bathroom sink. From a run in her hosiery to that one hair being out of place, she would jolt the household with her expletives.
Her open-mouth disease describes a very opinionated woman who voiced each and every thought that popped up in her head, although she was somewhat discreet in her manner of expressing it. “Do you like that dress you’re wearing?” really meant she didn’t like it. “Where did you get that lipstick?” was not asking you where she could pick up the same color. If you knew her very well, her face became quite readable. It was the left arched eyebrow that warned you of two things: One, get out of her way immediately, or two, brace yourself for an onslaught of recrimination.
But....I miss her. She was funny, humorously funny, quirky funny and, above all, when she walked into a room, you thought you were in the presence of royalty. With her head held high, every bleached-blonde hair in place, and an arched left eyebrow, she didn’t simply “walk” into a room - she strutted into it.....that’s what I liked best about her.
Most of us have to “go to the damn mill” each morning - maybe we should learn to walk into our “mills” with our heads held high.
posted by Aileen Bennett at 11:09 AM
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