Letter to the Editor

Dear Editor:
First, let me say this, I am not a braggadocios person. I’m simple, easy going but I do have standards, I was raised with this way. I love nice things and nice surroundings. I know for sure everyone was born with this trait but I do know that somewhere along life’s way that trait can get lost.
I’ve been back in Rayville now for the past three years trying to get settled in a community in my own little space, 315 Deborah Lane. Unfortunately, it has come to my attention that there are some things that other people try to do to pull you down or hold you back to their level simply because they see you prospering.
I moved in the Bucks Quarter community two years ago and I am very proud of what I have accomplished there in those two years. Most of my neighbors are very, very nice sharing their bakings, inviting me to barbecues, offering me veggies from their gardens and even sharing the Word. But there are always, “THOSE HATERS” that stand off watching you from a distance, trying to figure you out, pretending to be your friend when at the same time trying to cut your throat.
Not because you have personally done anything to them, simply because you have improved your quality of life in two years and they’ve been there for forty and nothing’s changed.
Well, I’ve done everything I could to try to get along with these acting hillbillies, pretending I don’t see them, ignoring them to downright avoiding them. But when you are so envious and jealous of someone else’s success that you have the audacity to sweep the trash up in your own yard, bag it and then have your foster children go and dump your trash at the end of my yard, you got balls. That is no longer jealousy, envy or hatred that is just downright evil and “YA’LL HAVE A SERIOUS PROBEM.”
Now mind you, I picked up the first pile of dumped trash after I called the Sheriff’s Office. I go back inside to continue watching the Saints game and as I look out my window I see her foster children in her yard bagging their second bag of trash and leaves only to get up go to my back door to watch her foster child dump the second bag of trash in my back yard again.
Now I am really concerned because the Sheriff has told the grown-ups to stay out of this yard, so she has her foster children involved in her mess. What type of standards are you teaching them?
YA’II HAVE SOME SERIOUS PROBLEMS, ISSUES WHATEVER YOU WANT TO CALL THEM BUT YA’LL HAVE THEM but I can promise you this, IT’S YA”LL. Take a good look in the mirror and ask yourself some questions, “I promise you, IT’S NOT ME. DON’T HATE THE PLAYER, GET WITH THE GAME. IT’S CALLED A PAYCHECK ... Get off welfare and go get you a job.
You have lost sight of what’s really important, want to be a control freak and now you are just lying in a bed of welfare and hatred ... Like I said, Y’ALL MADE ME GO THERE.
I refuse to let you all try to discredit my success even by dumping trash in my yard where I live but that tells me a lot about you and what’s going on in your home. If you don’t want me to publish a part two to these Bucks Quarter Happenings, then stay in your lane.
You say you own a portion of this property then get with the lady that own it, you all get it surveyed, but just LEAVE ME ALONE. Better yet, until you all are able to do that, do what Donald Trump said, “Build you a wall,” but I can guarantee you I will get the most benefit but you will pay for it.
All have to say to y’all is this: You will never get me to stoop to that Hillbilly level you’re on, If YOU ARE JUST NOT THAT IMPORTANT TO ME. Now as people pass through the neighborhood and see those piles of trash at the end of my trailer, people will know it’s not mine it belongs to those hillbillies across the street. That’s what you act like, so I call them as I see them for I am in control of 315 Deborah Lane.
I will leave you Hillbillies with this thought: If someone moves into your community and does nothing to make you want to change for the better, then they haven’t done what God sent them to do.
Be Blessed As I Continue To Pray For You As Well As Myself.
Delores Brice
Rayville