Whiteman AFB Missouri 1962
I was intrinsically a happy child; however, Daddy was overwhelmed by life sometimes, fueled by Pabst Blue Ribbon beer, and I became the family clown to keep the mood light. I often wonder who was taking this picture because I was clearly wary.
We received orders for Colorado, but by the time the ink was dry, we were headed to Bitburg AFB Germany. This family photo, no doubt taken by some 18 year old pimple-faced air force clerk from the Midwest who wanted to serve his country and see the world, really caught the Mills women’s spot on fashion sense and ability to pose for the camera. I was the runt of the litter in this tall family; check out everybody’s flat shoes. My oldest sister, to the right of my mother, was over 6’ tall and married a young air force flightline mechanic from West Virginia so she didn’t go to Germany. Apparently, bric-a-brac was in that year, too. If I say so myself, I love my little freckles that have now migrated into big ol’ lady spots.
What do pillowcases have to do with Halloween?
Remember when there was no curfew and you made such a haul on Halloween that you had to go home, dump it out, and start over? We used pillow cases because nothing else would have held up under the weight. I’m sure your neighborhood was fun, but Halloween back in the day on a military base was the bomb (excuse the pun)! Maybe it was the proximity of the people and how close one house or apartment building (Germany) was to each other; maybe it was the guilt the parents’ felt at schlepping you around every three years; or maybe it was that families tended to be large—the neighborhood was certainly safe—and just being able to harvest all night yielded something akin to a trash barge on the Hudson. The downside, in my family anyway, was there is no photographic evidence. There could be some grainy video, but God knows which relative is currently in possession of the y-e-a-r-s worth of family video.
Next to my birthday, Halloween was always my favorite holiday. I reveled in taking Josh trick-or-treating later, and it was his favorite holiday because it came just two days after his birthday. I think he thought it was all for him.
You can’t go out until Batman is ready.
Me and Cajun on the new deck in Alexandria. He’s was getting old there.
From humble beginnings...
What was I, a dust bowl baby?
Is there any wonder why I love a luxurious bath now? That’s my six foot tall mother, Hamlyn Lottie (Hale) Mills, and older sister (they were all older) Stephani watching me, the curly haired bathing beauty in the bucket. It makes so much sense to me now that, many years later, Jerry and Josh would take the ferry from Helsinki, Finland, to Tallin, Estonia, while I would opt to stay behind and have room service and enjoy the spa, like you do in Finland. There must still be some lingering trauma from that day above. I have a pic somewhere (yes, of my room service), but I’m too lazy to go look for it. This was taken in Homestead AFB, FL. Clearly, we were not in officer housing. That hair. I can activate those curls in ocean air…on demand…much to my chagrin. Circa 1957 maybe.
How did I get here?
Well, by autotrain from DC back in 2010. Having never slept on a train before, I imagined myself on the Orient Express. I put out a framed photo and had my pashmina and a book all set. The valet guy setting up my tiny room said, "you know this trip is only one night, right?" Sure, he was right, but I was going to milk it.
Reality
In my head.
Lights, Action, Content!
Daddy was a Buckeye (Ohio) and mama was from deep Alabama from the poorest side of town. I was raised knowing that who dotted the 'i' during Ohio State football was important and thus began my love of a big college band. I was born in October during the World Series, raised in the Air Force and lived in at least three states before I was five years old, and lived in Germany during the swinging sixties. We were close to mod London and stayed connected to the exploding music scene in the states through Radio Free Europe. I was oblivious to anything outside of the military, but developed overly sentimental feelings about small town America. A Woolworth store and a nickel in my pocket, made me happier than a bug on a tomato. An icy cold Orange Crush in the original bottle out of an original Coke machine in Lancaster, OH, made me want to live. Fast forward to settling in Cocoa, FL, during the Apollo program, then being transferred to Bowie, MD, where I graduated from high school. My graduating class had 900 graduates and I was ranked smack dab in the exact middle. Oddly enough, nearly all of my boyfriends were in the top 10. I like 'em smart. College three years. Quit. Worked as a legal secretary in DC with notables and learned so much about life and the importance of manners. Married Jerry (Notre Dame and Yale Law) who sent me back to college (George Mason, Social Work) and who was, coincidentally, a fellow lifelong Steelers fan. Joshua Morgan made me a mom. Had a bunch of dogs before I became the cat lady. Ran from the mad rapist one time. Two excellent wonderful jobs after the legal stint and then back to George Mason for MPA (Public Admin). Quit--because I'm an idiot--and moved to FL in 2010. Unemployment ... for four long years. Remember my infatuation with small town America? I'm neck deep in "main street" bidness.
Okay, you're up to date. Now time for a quote on "what I've learned."
“Never put down your bread pudding with whiskey sauce where you were sitting, leave, and then sit back down without picking up your dessert first. Unless you’re lucky enough to have pig pants as PJs.”