Of these women, it was actually Wyvone who first accepted I was here to stay. She had once said that I was good for Billy because he had finally attempted to take better care of himself. Diabetes runs rampid through this family...and has affected Pat, James Elvie and Billy. James Elvie was her brother who died as a teenager in an accident. Wyvone herself would later develop a form of diabetes caused by overuse or production of predisone, a medication which she took for her underlying medical condition, Crohn's Disease. She had a colostomy in the late 70's. The very surgery which was suppose to save her life, almost cost her the same. Thyroid disease was another problem with the women of this family. Tye, Pat, Wyvone and Beverly all had a thyriod issue.
The men of the family had their own skeletons...but they didn't reside in the closet, nor did they wait for the wives to leave before they would dance openly on the front porch with their skeletons. Bill and Russ were notorious for going 'fishing' and coming back hammered. Elvie didn't strike me this way. I, like Beverly and Billy, respected him. He was a quiet man, hard working and honorable. There are moments in life that catch you so off guard that you don't realize how funny they are until later. Elvie was this kind of man. Apparently he had a wickedly entertaining sense of humor. I still can't imagine that man dressing up like a black man on Halloween, but I was told he did. I can't imagine him dressing up for Halloween PERIOD!
I haven't said much about Pat. That's because if you be quite you could probably hear her. She was LOUD and obnoxious and had absolutely NO business driving a car, let alone a great big stationwagon. She was cold as ice...literally. Touching her arm was like feeling the arm of a corpse and she required a blanket or jacket year round. Living with Billy, I know it had nothing to do with the diabetes. Pat was just a cold natured person. She was a terrible cook!!! I didn't understand how this could be?! After a lifetime of me being too thin, it took Wyvone's homecooking to put some meat on my bones. I assumed the homemaking gene ran in the family. Billy has since taught me that when you assume anything there is the distinct possiblity that you make an ASS of U and ME.
Pat quilted, but not with the precision that Wyvone did. She wasn't the brightest crayola in the box either. I will never forget Josie age 2, had huge water blisters covering her extremely delicate fair skin. God only knows why Pat thought the blisters were tick bites and covered her with Watkins Lintament! I could hear Josie screaming at the top of her little lungs from down the road as Pat unknowlingly commenced to torturing her neice.
Russ was in the Air Force Reserves and was one of Bill's closest friends. A day out working with either one of them may involve some hard core labor, lots of beer, a fishing pole or a combination of the three. Josie called him Uncle REW (Russell Eugene Ward). He had kids from a previous marriage that he didn't get to see much, if at all. He and Beverly's relationship resembled the relationship I had with my own step-dad in the since that she felt out of place. A girl wants to know her Daddy. Nevertheless, Russ was good to her.
Beverly wanted me to search for my dad as she searched for her own. She, however, had an actual name to go on..Richard Rose. All we were ever told was that he and Pat 'were too young'. Some called Pat's streak in her younger days a rebellious one, but I think it was more for attention than anything. She wanted to do the exact opposite of what she was suppose to do. Pat was told it wasn't a good idea for her to get pregnant. She did it anyway. At any rate, whatever happened between her and Richard was a mystery that would remain unsolved. Beverly put some pretty smart hypotheses together as to why her Dad never came looking for her. Most of it revolved around her grandparents.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
First Impressions.....
It is said you gather you make a decision about someone in the first minute or so that you meet them. With that in mind, its a wonder Billy and I ever got together in the first place. People in small towns love to judge. They thrive on it. In a way, we all cast judgement whether we intend to or not.
I came to Blanket with my own baggage. I was in a marriage that was falling apart and had left me with bruises and broken ribs. People had their own speculations about me. Heck, I think people knew more about what I was doing that I did. That's just the way small towns work. I don't remember Zephyr being quite as bad. They pretty much kept to their own. God only knows what they were saying about you behind closed doors, but Blanket had a cafe, a grocery store and a gas station...three places of congregation outside the local churches for folks to gather and gossip. Then there was the quilting club--a gossip group of its own-stitched together by a common love for creating the most magnificant heirlooms and some of the towns most coloful ladies. Tye, Pat and Wyvone were all crafters of this trade...Wyvone being the most renouned and the most dedicated to the art.
Wyvone was leary of my relationship with her son, and with good reason. She had Josie to think about, her one year old mid-life miracle baby and here was her son bringing home someone else's abused wife like a child would bring home a wounded bird or stray dog. She and Bill had agreed to put me up for a month or until I could find a place of my own.
I don't recall ever meeting people who worked so hard and had so little to show for it, materialistically speaking. Materialism wasn't important to Bill Sherrod. A a beat up old truck, a cold Shaffer Light, groceries in the fridge, grease under his nails and a pack of smokes and he was more than content with life. Here was a man with a two sons, Billy 23 and Joey 18, a one year old daughter and a wife who was lucky to be alive.
There was a strange comfort I felt in Bill's presence. I felt safe. Most people would have to see way beyond his rough and weathered exterior, the steady stream of profanities and the alcohol. I could tell he was a protector of his family, as Billy would someday be. Around him, I not only felt safe, I felt no condemnation; no judgement. He took me at face value...nothing more....nothing less like he does all people.
It was the 4th of July when Billy's family had planned a gathering at Pat & Russ's house. Now, for all of your life, you've known Tye as your "Mama Tye", but in fact, Pat was your grandmother and Russ was her husband. Tye, was your great-grandmother. As hot as it was, we took the bike to Zephyr. This was my first trip to Diamond B Ranch. Billy & I stopped off on the way to swim in the tank before heading over to see the rest of his family.
On this first visit with Wyvone's family, I was oblivious to the scrutiny that I had been put under. Billy and I were in a new relationship and loving life. Things were just dandy in our own little world. As we visited his family more and more, I began to get homesick. I didn't belong and the the 3 women of this family (Wyvone, Pat, & Tye) were hell-bent on making sure I knew it. Around the men of the family, all was fine, but whether they had been hunting, fishing or just shooting the bull outside, these three ladies would take every opportunity they had to cut me to the quick. Beverly took note of this, especially when it concerned Tye. She had spent a fair amount of time with her grandparents. Beverly didn't know her biological father....this was yet another common bond we shared. She was also the apple of her her PaPa's eye. I was no stranger to that affection either. Tye, on the other hand, could be harshly cold for no apparent reason with her. Beverly didn't know why and I had no answers for her. Wyvone had often made comments about 'favorite grandchildren' of her parents and how Beverly was 'it'. While Beverly respected Elvie and they shared shared a passion for horses she didn't feel this put her at any advantage. True as it is, she did spend more time with them, but she also had to suffer and she sharpened tongue of her own grandmother. As years and the course of events changed, Wyvone would come to know this person she called Mother from Beverly's eyes.
I came to Blanket with my own baggage. I was in a marriage that was falling apart and had left me with bruises and broken ribs. People had their own speculations about me. Heck, I think people knew more about what I was doing that I did. That's just the way small towns work. I don't remember Zephyr being quite as bad. They pretty much kept to their own. God only knows what they were saying about you behind closed doors, but Blanket had a cafe, a grocery store and a gas station...three places of congregation outside the local churches for folks to gather and gossip. Then there was the quilting club--a gossip group of its own-stitched together by a common love for creating the most magnificant heirlooms and some of the towns most coloful ladies. Tye, Pat and Wyvone were all crafters of this trade...Wyvone being the most renouned and the most dedicated to the art.
Wyvone was leary of my relationship with her son, and with good reason. She had Josie to think about, her one year old mid-life miracle baby and here was her son bringing home someone else's abused wife like a child would bring home a wounded bird or stray dog. She and Bill had agreed to put me up for a month or until I could find a place of my own.
I don't recall ever meeting people who worked so hard and had so little to show for it, materialistically speaking. Materialism wasn't important to Bill Sherrod. A a beat up old truck, a cold Shaffer Light, groceries in the fridge, grease under his nails and a pack of smokes and he was more than content with life. Here was a man with a two sons, Billy 23 and Joey 18, a one year old daughter and a wife who was lucky to be alive.
There was a strange comfort I felt in Bill's presence. I felt safe. Most people would have to see way beyond his rough and weathered exterior, the steady stream of profanities and the alcohol. I could tell he was a protector of his family, as Billy would someday be. Around him, I not only felt safe, I felt no condemnation; no judgement. He took me at face value...nothing more....nothing less like he does all people.
It was the 4th of July when Billy's family had planned a gathering at Pat & Russ's house. Now, for all of your life, you've known Tye as your "Mama Tye", but in fact, Pat was your grandmother and Russ was her husband. Tye, was your great-grandmother. As hot as it was, we took the bike to Zephyr. This was my first trip to Diamond B Ranch. Billy & I stopped off on the way to swim in the tank before heading over to see the rest of his family.
On this first visit with Wyvone's family, I was oblivious to the scrutiny that I had been put under. Billy and I were in a new relationship and loving life. Things were just dandy in our own little world. As we visited his family more and more, I began to get homesick. I didn't belong and the the 3 women of this family (Wyvone, Pat, & Tye) were hell-bent on making sure I knew it. Around the men of the family, all was fine, but whether they had been hunting, fishing or just shooting the bull outside, these three ladies would take every opportunity they had to cut me to the quick. Beverly took note of this, especially when it concerned Tye. She had spent a fair amount of time with her grandparents. Beverly didn't know her biological father....this was yet another common bond we shared. She was also the apple of her her PaPa's eye. I was no stranger to that affection either. Tye, on the other hand, could be harshly cold for no apparent reason with her. Beverly didn't know why and I had no answers for her. Wyvone had often made comments about 'favorite grandchildren' of her parents and how Beverly was 'it'. While Beverly respected Elvie and they shared shared a passion for horses she didn't feel this put her at any advantage. True as it is, she did spend more time with them, but she also had to suffer and she sharpened tongue of her own grandmother. As years and the course of events changed, Wyvone would come to know this person she called Mother from Beverly's eyes.
In The Beginning
I came to know Beverly in 1991 just before Billy and I started dating. He had brought her over to my house one day. I think she was barely in high school and reminded me alot of...me. She was a true rock and roller at heart, which, for a young girl was almost unheard of in the Blanket/Zephyr area. When I rolled into town I thought they were gonna have me beheaded for not only my taste in music, but my unconventional demeanor. I wasn't big city, and I certainly wasn't small town America. That's where Billy came in....Metallica thumping from the speakers as he drove in his flatbed dually down Main Street, Blanket, Texas, USA. I would run to the door to catch a glimpse of the only other person in town who shared my taste in music.
Beverly did as well. Her bedroom, as was mine at her age, was a shrine to Bon Jovi, Motley Crue, Guns and Roses. There was little wall showing through the countless Metal Edge and Circus posters.
Anyway, Beverly had her metal roots running deep, yet, at that particular time in music history, the Seattle was screaming with bands like Pearl Jam and Nirvana at the forefront of the grunge movement. She had just enough time in 80's and two cousins to induct her into the hairbands movement. Now, she had opened her own musical wings and expanded her collections and taste to include a new genre called alternative.
Beverly did as well. Her bedroom, as was mine at her age, was a shrine to Bon Jovi, Motley Crue, Guns and Roses. There was little wall showing through the countless Metal Edge and Circus posters.
Anyway, Beverly had her metal roots running deep, yet, at that particular time in music history, the Seattle was screaming with bands like Pearl Jam and Nirvana at the forefront of the grunge movement. She had just enough time in 80's and two cousins to induct her into the hairbands movement. Now, she had opened her own musical wings and expanded her collections and taste to include a new genre called alternative.
Truth Be Told
Over a decade has passed since Beverly's death...and even though I write, I find my own personal experiences the most difficult to write about. First of all, you have to define truth. What is truth? What I see as truth may not be so to someone else. Some call it opinion. I beg to differ. It is said there are two sides to every story. This is only the case if there are only 2 parties involved. With Beverly's murder, there are several parties involved as it affected many lives.
One of the main reasons I hesitated to write about this is, well, the truth hurts. I can say it's black, while someone else screams 'IT'S WHITE'. Some is a matter of opinion. I spoke with Billy last night about this and he even wondered why I never chose to write about this. I said, "Billy. I can't describe the event and leave it at that. I have to describe the people and circumstances, the family...and coming from my point of view...it ain't all pretty."
With that being said, this is the Batt Murder v.1.0, my recount of my relationship with Beverly Lavone Rose Batt and the events preceeding and after her death. What someone may say, "is black" is now my white. If they so choose to write their own account of this story, so be it. As for now, this begins my journey remembering not only her life, but the lives of those around her.
For Cheyenne, Carol and T.J. Batt, this is your family....the good, the bad and the ugly. For better and for worse. I want you to not only learn of the unique spirit your mother was, but I want each of you to know the people and events that shaped her life as well as your own.
One of the main reasons I hesitated to write about this is, well, the truth hurts. I can say it's black, while someone else screams 'IT'S WHITE'. Some is a matter of opinion. I spoke with Billy last night about this and he even wondered why I never chose to write about this. I said, "Billy. I can't describe the event and leave it at that. I have to describe the people and circumstances, the family...and coming from my point of view...it ain't all pretty."
With that being said, this is the Batt Murder v.1.0, my recount of my relationship with Beverly Lavone Rose Batt and the events preceeding and after her death. What someone may say, "is black" is now my white. If they so choose to write their own account of this story, so be it. As for now, this begins my journey remembering not only her life, but the lives of those around her.
For Cheyenne, Carol and T.J. Batt, this is your family....the good, the bad and the ugly. For better and for worse. I want you to not only learn of the unique spirit your mother was, but I want each of you to know the people and events that shaped her life as well as your own.
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