This first story in A Curtain of Green, and my first to read for this blog, reminds me why I love Welty.  I always love to read stories brimming with familiarity of place and character.  Since a large part of Lily Daw revolves around discussion of shipping Lily off to the “Ellisville Institute for the Feeble-Minded of Mississippi,” I certainly have that covered.  I drive past the actual Ellisville State School, as we refer to it these days, every day on my way to work.

 

Yet my recognition of the story goes beyond a mere place-marker.  I feel like I know these people.  I feel like I know this language.  I even speak it.

 

Lily what I think we now call developmentally delayed.  She is capable of living on her own, but she is not entirely competent.  Her mother is dead, and she’s been rescued from her father who once took after her with a butcher knife.  Thus, she’s under the supervision—in a loose, neighborly, busy-body way—of three well-intentioned if misguided women.  The ladies have decided to send her off to Ellisville for her own good.  Lily has other plans.  She wants to get married.  After some back and forth, and a few missteps, they all end up at the train station where Lily only narrowly escapes being sent to Ellisville after all just as her xylophone playing man shows up to claim her as his bride.

 

Unlike O’Connor or others of the Southern Gothic persuasion, Welty’s story contains no real violence, no overt tragedy.  What violence has been done is well in the past.   What tragedy might come appears to have been handily averted.  It is a simple story with a simple, straightforward ending.

 

Or is it?

 

Deceptively simple is probably a more apt description.

 

The reader isn’t overly pressed with the sadness of Lily’s plight, yet who could really miss that the sadness is there.  She’s a motherless girl.  Those who have taken charge of her seem eager to rid themselves of their responsibilities.  She’s offered two choices only—marriage or an institution.  We think she’s won the coin toss on this in ending up with marriage, but what do we really know about the marriage?  Absolutely nothing.  She marries a man she has known only one day.  Her protectors don’t show any genuine concern that they know nothing of him, or that he has a somewhat disreputable occupation as a musician for a travelling show—one that the preacher’s wife who looks after Lily would not even be allowed to attend.

 

In this way, a story that could be sweet, comical, and easy on the senses, leaves us with more questions than answers.  What really happens to Lily?  We have no way of knowing, and that, my friends, is the point.  We know only that she will no longer be the responsibility of the three ladies who consider themselves her saving grace.  What happens to her next is someone else’s worry, though we can hardly imagine this will stop the ladies from continuing to meddle.

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