Lillian Ferguson provided hours of pleasure and amusement for the neighborhood by simply being herself. She was the most innocently audacious woman I’d ever met and she reached the zenith of her idiocy when she’d hang her underwear on the clothesline. Most folks had the good sense to put the clothesline behind their house. Lillian had her twin poles set directly north of her home, thus giving all passing cars a sidelong glance at whatever was hanging there. Lillian finally bought herself a clothes drier and we were no longer treated to the sight of her panties fluttering in the breeze. I missed them. We all did. Oh, no one really relished the sight of her rather spacious silk pants adorning the Poosey landscape, but it was such a treat to witness Lillian’s exasperation when someone actually looked and made a comment. I miss the days before we started medicating mental problems. We’re losing our characters.
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