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Billy Lankford

9/15/2022

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I found the above picture online.
"“I love you sounds best spoken in quiet acts of kindness.” 
― Richelle E. Goodrich, Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year 

Every summer in the early seventies I was shipped off to Tifton, Georgia to my grandparents house. I loved those summers.  One of the best parts was going out to eat after church. We didn't eat out much at home, so it was a real treat.

Every Sunday morning and an occasional evening you would find us at the First Baptist Church. The church built on love. That's their motto, because the church is located on Love Avenue. Clever, huh? No disrespect to the faithful flock but the real church built on love was across the street at the Lankford Manor. 

Billy Lankford was the minister of hospitality and love. He was a tall, spindly drink of water with a bit of a stoop. The slight, very slight hunch in his back wasn't from age I don't think, but probably because he was a lofty man and had to duck to get into rooms. A giant in more ways than one if you ask me. 

If'n he was an insect I suspect he would be a praying mantis. An elegant man with a zen spirit and an ethereal quality. Yes, I believe that fits him.
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Photo by Drew Easley on Unsplash
The Lankford Manor was a large elegant house.  It was white clapboard surrounded by humongous trees. Probably pecan (pee-can). There was a huge enclosed porch where food was served. Enormous paddles from ceiling fans whirled slowly to boost the effect of the air cooled rooms to fight the oppressive humidity of south Georgia. 

I remember the stairs leading up to the place squeaked. I suspect it's because lots of folks needed not only their bellies fortified, but their souls too.

Now, I went there many times for lunch, or I think they called it dinner, and the evening meal supper. Dang, I can't remember. But what I'm about to tell you happened on a special evening after church on a wondrous Sunday evening.
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Photo by Michał Franczak on Unsplash
Billy's as my grandparents called it held a whole different atmosphere in the evening.  It came alive with festivity, and bright lights. The pace was faster than the afternoon. Billy went from table to table greeting folks and welcoming them. Every now and again he pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his forehead. He always smiled.

On the side of the dining room stood an old, well used, well loved  stand up piano. It wasn't a grand piano, but it was grand. 


“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine”

Yes, doll here I am. I went right over. Now, I really couldn't play the piano, but my uncle could. There was the same type of piano at my grandparents house. I could play  heart and soul, sticks and the first four notes of Beethoven's fifth. 

I sat at the piano and Billy came over. He didn't scold me, or tell me to go back to the table. He told me to scoot over.

He asked if I could play something. I began playing sticks. He let me have my solo for a few minutes then he joined in with the most effervescent, spirited jazz. 

Listen, I'm here to tell you that day I was transported. I remember the feeling vividly 50 years later. A warm light filled my whole body. It was the most joy I've ever felt in my entire life to this day. The music bathed me and his soul, vitality and love, love, love permeated me. 

The dining room disappeared the clanking of the silverware and dishes quieted, diners conversation muted, the squeaking stairs went silent. Nothing existed but right then and there and full blown jubilation. Billy shared his light with me that day. I will never, ever forget. 

​You know I heard an interview with Liz Gilbert once talking about meditation. It took her years of practice and journeys to India to learn to do it. She talked of the one time she was able to quiet her mind and she felt like she was "in the hand of God" Well, I don't know if I was in the hand of God that day, but I most certainly was part of God's playlist. And I didn't have to go to an ashram in India to find bliss. It was right there in the dining room on Love Avenue. 

Every time I went back to Georgia to visit there were two places I always went The Tift County Agrirama, .  
And the Lankford Manor.  I never did see Billy again on my visits as a young adult. I still needed to go there even if I just stood outside. Lankford Manor, aka Billy Lankford  shared his place with the world.  He made a raggedy little girl feel like the most important and well loved thing on the planet. 


With love, affection and the jazziest jazz music,

Kelly




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