Recently I was attending a baby shower. I was talking to Terry Seal about how much Ms. Jerry Dick was missed. She had spearheaded many great things in the First Baptist Church and in Franklinton.
Ms Terry went on to comment that some people are just true icons in a community. This reminded me of our dear Aunt Billie Sue, who passed recently having lived into her 90’s. But some people just can’t live long enough. A matriarch seems to spread roots and branches far outreaching a moment, a holiday, decades, or even a lifetime.
When my husband’s father passed at a young age and Clay was only 4 years old, he asked his Aunt Billie Sue what would happen to him if something ever happened to his Mama. She reassured him that she would always be there for him, and he would never be alone. She shared this with me soon after we married 39 years ago. I believe it was more than back history guiding her to deliver that information. It was a subtle hint that he was like a son to her and there was an expectation that came with it. I got it.
Billie Sue’s house had 24/7 open doors. People would drop by all the time for a cup of coffee and a good conversation. Friends gathered around to play cards or dominoes. Food was always cooking on her stove, and since her passing I have had a constant craving for her fried cornbread and chicken dumplings. Holidays were a huge event in this house --- from witch’s brew at Halloween, to carved turkey at Thanksgiving, to Mardi Gras sugar beads and a big hug and kiss from her or Uncle Bill.
For the early years of our marriage when a hurricane large or small was heading ashore, Clay wanted to pack us all up and head to his Aunt Billie Sue’s house. It was what he had done growing up. One day I asked him why they always went there. He guessed it was because she was the only one with a brick house. But I believe there was something far sturdier than brick drawing this extended family under her wings when there were signs of trouble. She just had that way.
We were all gathered in my kitchen one day with my sons and daughters-in-law while toddlers scooted beneath us when I commented that I sure hope I would be thought of as an Aunt Billie Sue as I got older. My husband quickly spouted off with, “You ain’t no Billie Sue!” His tone was so defensive that our Sara had shirts made for all of us that said, “You Ain’t No Billie Sue!” We proudly wore them and took pictures for her when she celebrated her 90th birthday.
It is true, I ain’t no Billie Sue. She was that one-of-a-kind icon that will never be replaced and will never be replicated. Like many who have lived in Washington Parish, her work and service could not be matched having her special touch. From the flower house to the park, to her volunteering at the Fair, to waving from high on a Mardi Gras float, to her fellowship at church, to friends, family, and neighbors always receiving a welcome smile and a warm hug, she is and was truly one of a kind.
I think that is exactly what makes a person remembered as an icon. As I sit here writing on her roll top desk that I inherited from her, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt what makes people like her so special. Although we may not be her, people like her make us all want to be a bit better, love a bit harder, and help people know there will always be something far stronger than brick walls if you need a cup of coffee and a spot to feel safe and loved. Heaven just got a lot more fun.
