The White Lilly

The oldest boy was named Howard Joseph Skinner. He was nicknamed Howie. Howard was five feet six inches, 180 pounds, had a haystack pile of straight brown hair, green eyes, impish, elf monkey like face, high pitched voice, nervous high strung, talked fast, changed subjects, made quick jerky movements, usually wore a baseball cap, plaid flannel shirt, blue jeans, and tennis shoes. He had common sense but was a simple minded person. Many complex things confused him. Howie went to school as a boy and had odd jobs that put some money in his pocket. His dad gave him some money. That was true. But Howie was willing to work, get dirty, take the boss’s orders, get out in that mean old world, and earn a dollar by sweat and toil. He mowed lawns, washed cars, raked lawns, shoveled snow, labor at a lumber yard, chopped and hauled firewood, painted houses, cleaned out and stocked a warehouse, did roofing, and worked as an usher and janitor at night in a movie theater. He got free snacks, saw free movies, and made many new friends at the theater. He got average and better than that, grades at school. He finished high school and found a job in a cotton mill that paid the best money he had ever got. With a hand wound machine, Howard loaded bobbins and put them in a bin. Then he pushed this out to a production line to be weaved into cloth. Howie worked weekdays and had weekends off. He dated five or six girls and others if he wanted to. He had no steady or favorite. He did not think at his age that one woman was a good thing. He liked different gals. Still he lived at home. Things there were alright. His mom cooked and cleaned house so all of that was nice. Howard got along with his dad, mother, brother, and sister well enough. He went to church when he wanted to. Howie wanted a car of his own but did not have enough money.