On the Air with Milli Mills: The Triumphs of a Radio Diva

© 2012 by Milli Mills. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/14/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4343-6711-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-3303-0 (ebook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011963095

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Foreword

Chapter One In the Beginning

Chapter Two The Early Years

Chapter Three More Development

Chapter Four Hit and Miss

Chapter Five Life in the REAL WORLD: Life Surprises!

Chapter Six A Step Back for A Come Back

Chapter Seven Risk Factors

Chapter Eight Planting Seeds

Chapter Nine Cashing in on some of God’s Rewards

Chapter Ten Bringing it All Together to Receive God’s Victory!!

Chapter Eleven The Grapevine gets greater!

Chapter Twelve Closer to the Promise!

Chapter Thirteen God Gets the Glory!

Chapter Fourteen The Last Words!

References

Dedication

Very special thanks to our heavenly father, Jesus Christ, for providing me with the anointing and patience to write this book. Also special thanks to Bill Gates and Paul Allen Founders of Microsoft and the late Steve Jobs of Apple Inc for their contributions to modern day informational and digital technology. It would have been impossible to complete this project without the help of the Lord, Microsoft Windows, and strong computer and internet accessibilities.

This book is dedicated to my family: to my one and only baby daughter, the precious, Rumill DeWon Batts, my recent loving husband Steven Troy Williams, and my loving parents, the late great Luebirda Lucas and Booker T. Gilliam (R.I.P.), my grandparents Mary and Wayman Lucas, Sr (R.I.P.), to my late uncles Mamon and Wayman Lucas Jr., and my aunt Geneva Williams (R.I.P.).

To my step-daughter, Tiana Rogers, step-son-in-law, Kristin Rogers, my step grandchildren, T’Niya & Kristin Rogers, Jr., and my Father in-law, Herman Williams (Helen), and mother in-law, Erma Jean Williams.

To my sisters Margaret Rosensteel and late eldest sister Fannie Holmes (R.I.P), brother in-law Connie Holmes, my late brother Robert Gilliam (R.I.P.), my niece Vanessa, and nephews LaValle and Eugene, great nieces and nephews; Eugene Jr (BJ), Mary, Vaneisha, and Savion.

Also to my cousins: Willie Lee, Harrietta Wilson & family, the McCoys in Arkansas, and the Gilliam family in the Detroit area.

This book is also dedicated to the late Marinelle Howard, Program Director of AM-1590 KYDE in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, the late Wardell Simes, former Music Director of KCLT-FM in West Helena, Arkansas, Latin Superstar Recording Artist, Selena, the King of Pop Michael Jackson (R.I.P.), the Queen of Pop Whitney Houston (R.I.P.), the Queen of Disco Donna Summer, and the first African-American President of the United States of America, Barack Obama.

Acknowledgements

I would like to acknowledge my friends and acquaintances that have been instrumental in my journey. They are as follows: Elaine Sims, Nellie Cunningham, Wesley Dobbins, Lee Gary, Daryl Smith, Freddie Moss, Bobby Hughes (12/04/61-10/30/09), Ferelle Woodhouse, Valarie Esteen, Oliver Talbert, Stormy Taylor, Elsie and Donald Kirkwood, Angela Jackson, Tracey McGoom, Genea House, Roberta Shoat, John Howard, Tim Garrison, DJ Big Bink, Ms. Shirley Foster, Detra Ellis, Shilitha and Gabriella Hilton, Mr. and Mrs. Evans of Fort Worth, TX, The Simes Family of West Helena, AR, Penney and Oscar Woodard, Augustine Saysay, and a loyal and faithful radio listener of Hits and Favorites, Susan Jenson.

Some of the fine staff members at ABC Radio Networks, the late Cathy Hamann, Jody McJunkins, Kevan Browning, Dave Allison, Doug Banks, Patrick Flewellen, Sonja Rodriquez Tom Joyner, Ken Bell, Kenneth Funderburk, Wanda Braithwaite, Michael Baisden, Willie Mae McIver, Cowboy Kevin, Trinette Harrison, Joe Short, Michelle Michaels, Brian Curry, Stan Boston, Peter Stewart, Juan Derek, Hollywood Hernandez, Tom Kennedy, and Merry Starling.

Special thanks to Erotic Novelist Brenda L. Carruth, Ron Bowles and the fine folks at AuthorHouse Publishing for being instrumental and the moving force in the development of this book. Also special thanks to Emanuel Agyemang of RCTS (for proofreading the first portion of this book), Ray Sharpe of JKR Events, The Fine Staff at Radio-One Dallas, Millicent Courtney-Ware and Marcus Parker of Weekendbookstv.com, Hair Stylists Terri Jones and Cecily Mr. and Mrs. Pettis of Jokae’s African American Bookstore+, Fred Carter of Carter DJ Services, Edward McDaniel of Itrackradio.com and VonEric and Kappacino of Hearlobe Experience Internet Radio, Kuwn Dalini, Media Promoter, and the fine staff and supporters of Millhouse Entertainment LLC for providing aid in the exposure this book.

I would also like to acknowledge some of the lovely children in my neighborhood whom I consider my God-Children. They are as follows: Cheyenne Valentine, Mercedie Jones, Ashton Hill, Emerial Woods, Lee Jackson, Wrae-Shaun Golden, Jha’Kyric Nixon (RIP), Dezarae House, Thuy Trinh, Lyric Reaves, Dellareese Hannah, Gabby Hilton (former neighbor), Joelta Seneh, Terrence Marchloud Spectacle, Cameron ‘Kid Cam’ Smith, Stephanie Le, Tiara Bryant, Dequcelan Bagsby, and Jenny Okereke.

Special acknowledgement to my line sisters of Treacherous Thirteen, Alpha Rho Chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc from the University of Arkansas Pine Bluff; Lisa Hayes, Dannita Lynn Brookins, Teresa Spicer, Jacqueline Ogden, Juniese Harris, Rhonda Davis, Colandra Head, Barbara Williams, Annie Smith, Phyllis Smith-McDonald, Leslie Randolph, Cheryl Hampton, and yours truly.

Shout out to Beverly Trimble, Charmane, Rebecca, Sherry, Patricia, Betsy, Michael and Judy of the mail/image processing area of the CIOS Dept State Farm Center in Las Colinas, TX.

My career has been motivated and influenced by Oprah Winfrey, Donna Summer, Michael Jackson, Janet Jackson, Prince, Whitney Houston, Halle Berry, Mary J. Blige, Helen

Keller, Billy Blanks, my pastor, Bishop T.D. Jakes, ministers Dr. Creflo Dollar, Joyce Meyers, Joel Osteen, and Spirit Truth Ministries.

Foreword

The purpose of this book is to inspire and uplift individuals during their transitional stages in life. It was not written to slander, demoralize, sabotage, nor demean anyone’s character. The material in this book is based on my personal views and opinions. Some identities were kept anonymous to protect the privacy of others. Not everyone will understand, appreciate, or receive the blessing from this book but the Holy Spirit moved me to publish it in an effort to help heal, comfort and save lost souls . . . . Milli Mills ©

Chapter One

In the Beginning

The miracle began in the Delta of Arkansas on July 5, 1965 on a hot summer evening in a small town called Marvell. Marvell is a town with a population of approximately 1,300; a community full of friendly, neighborly people. There was one lady in particular that had a friendly, meek, Christlike spirit, Luebirda Lucas. Luebirda was a very attractive petite African American woman with ¼ Native American blood traces in her bloodline. She stood about 5'3" with a deep dimple in each cheek, a dazzling smile, with hair past her shoulders, bow hips and a humble disposition.

This 38 year old donas was a hard worker and expecting her second child. She had been working hard cleaning houses for upper class white families as usual that day but little did she know this day would be a bit different from the norm. After work that day, Luebirda gathered up a few items from the neighborhood grocery store and headed home.

Luebirda lived about 4 ½ miles outside of the city limits of Marvell in a rural area where plenty crops harvested richly. Shortly after arriving home from work, she began to help prepare dinner that evening when she began to feel sharp pains in her lower abdomen, she was going into labor. Her family physician, Dr. Tonyman, had told her that her due date would be July 21st. She was uneasy because she knew at that moment she was about to bring her second child into the world, a child that she and her fiancé Booker T. Gilliam really were not prepared for financially. She and Booker already had one daughter together named Margaret.

The relationship between Luebirda and Booker was rocky at this time. Therefore, Luebirda nor Booker were not planning or hoping for another child together. They had been experiencing an ‘on and off’ relationship for the past year when one night of reconciliation led to a steamy night of romance which led to an immaculate conception. Mildred Stein Gilliam was conceived. Yep, that would be me. I was actually given the birth name of Merrestein but no one could really spell it correctly or properly pronounce it so my parents settled with ‘Mildred Stein’ and called me ‘Stein’ as a pet name around the house.

I was approximately eight years younger than my sister Margaret. Margaret was a little more than a month away from her eighth birthday when I was born. She was a long and lean little girl with a beautiful oblong shaped face who had wished for a sister many times. Well, her wish was finally about to come true.

Around 5:45 pm on July 5, 1965, I was born into this world! At birth, I weighed 7 lbs and 3 oz. On this day, the Pop Group the Four Tops recorded their smash hit, It’s the Same Old Song, R&B singer Wilson Pickett released the single, In the Midnight Hour, and Lyndon B Johnson was elected president of the United States that year. The Women’s Liberation Movement was just beginning at this time! The following month on August 6th, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act which helped redeem voting rights privileges for blacks and minorities. What a year!

Even though I was an unplanned or unexpected child, I was well celebrated and received by my family, especially by mom and our grandparents. According to mom, I was a "nice size baby with eyes of a baby doe". Mom said that I was adored by family and friends. She told me that I had the cheeks that everyone wanted to kiss, squeeze, or touch and as I grew, my cheeks grew too.

Since things were not working out too well between my parents, mother, Margaret and I moved back home with our grandparents. Uncle Mamon, mom’s youngest brother, lived home with his parents (my grandparents) too. By the time I turned nine months old, my father left Marvell, Arkansas for Detroit, Michigan to join his other siblings where jobs were more plentiful for minorities in factories and never returned. Meanwhile, I guess it must have been a joy to have another small one in the house. I became one of my grandfather’s favorite grandchildren. Mother was really close to her father (which was my grandfather). I guess you could say that she was a daddy’s girl. Mom told me how fond I was of granddaddy. I probably felt such a bond with granddaddy because I had such closeness with mom and I sensed the bond she had with her father (granddaddy).

In photo: Baby Mildred

As time passed and I grew older, Mother began to tell me amazing stories about my early childhood years as a toddler with granddaddy. She told me how I used to run through the house calling after my granddaddy, referring to him as Paw-Paw, wanting to keep up with him and his whereabouts. According to mom, I was granddaddy’s little buddy. Mom said that he would take me along with him when he went into town and he would buy me treats. She said that I loved to ride into town with granddaddy and sit next to him with my arm around his neck.

Everything appeared pretty peachy in our house until our granddad was stricken with Cancer. After granddaddy was stricken with cancer, it was a sad time for the family because he was known as the ‘backbone’ of our family. He had Cancer in two areas, kidneys and colon. He battled Cancer for approximately a year before he lost that battle. I was only two years old when he passed. Mother shared with me that granddaddy loved me dearly and he did not want to leave me here on this earth to suffer the trials and tribulations of this world. He asked for mother’s permission to take me with him on his dying bed. He said that he did not want me to stay here in this ‘wretched world’ and suffer the afflictions that life has to offer. In order for that to happen, I would have to die too with granddaddy.

I was not sure why granddad made such a request. My only conclusion is that he must have seen a peek of my future that revealed severe suffering or oddities I would have to bear. Of course, my mother said no. As a matter of fact she said, No, you cannot take my baby. Not my baby! Obviously I do not remember any of this. I was too little to remember. Mother, grandmother, and my youngest uncle, Uncle Mamon, all believed that shortly after granddad’s death, his spirit or ghost came back to visit me.

One afternoon not long after granddaddy’s death, mom told me that she believe that granddad came back to visit me. She said that I ran out into the hallway of our house; pointing and yelling, Paw-Paw . . . pointing towards the breeze way, desperately trying to show her that Paw-Paw was standing there right in the hallway but she could not see him. Only I could see him. Soon my grandmother and uncle came to see what all the commotion was about as I tried to show them that granddaddy was there.

Unfortunately, they could not see anyone or anything what I claimed to see at that moment. I guess granddad wanted to take me back with him. Mom said that I became so excited and overwhelmed with the experience until eventually I passed out right there in the hallway from exhaustion of fear. At this moment, mom said that she, grandmother, and uncle Mamon all knew that I was special. My grandmother told my mother, This child is quite different from any of my grandchildren. She has a different way about her. Until this day, I never found out exactly what the experience meant but I believe Granddad had seen a glimpse of the forthcoming pain I would have to bare. Maybe he was trying to warn me or protect me. All I know is that I have lived to experience life’s episodes and discovered its treasures ever since then.

In 1968, at the early age of three, I discovered one of the greatest gifts of all, my artistic development of performance through the music I heard on the radio. I started to listen to music in the car and in our house and the beats would get me going. I loved how the music made me feel and how I felt while I was moving to the beat.

One day I noticed my sister dancing to some of the songs heard from the radio and I began to study her moves. This was fascinating to me! I started to move to the music. Some of the songs I recall playing on the radio include ‘Tighten Up’—Archie Bell & The Drells, ‘Tutti Fruitti’—Little Richard, ‘Dance to the Music’ &—‘Thank You for Lettin’ Me be Myself Again’—Sly and the Family Stone, ‘My Ding-A-Ling’—Chuck Berry, ‘Hot Pants’—James Brown in my earlier childhood years. Chuck Berry (the father of Rock & Roll), Little Richard (the architect of Rock & Roll, James Brown (God father of Soul), and Sly & the Family Stone (pioneers of funk) were my early childhood influences in the music industry.

One spring afternoon while I was moving to the beat of one of my favorite songs on the radio, the music was suddenly interrupted with an important news announcement. The news reporter announced that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had been assassinated in Memphis, Tennessee at the Lorraine Motel. I didn’t know exactly who he was at that time and what that meant but I knew that he must have been a man of greatness because of the commotion he stirred within our home and community as well as the nation. When I asked mom who he was, she told me that he was a strong man of importance trying to make a significant change in history and put an end to segregation. I didn’t understand exactly what she meant but eventually knew I would.

In my household, love was expressed daily to every living creature. Segregation and racism was not prevalent within our home or family. Therefore, I did not know exactly what it meant. I was too young to understand why a person could be judged, mistreated or hated because of the color of their skin. At the tender age of three, I did not realize that Dr. King was a drum major for justice, a forerunner of the civil rights movement, and a barrier breaker of color lines for all minorities but I was able to recognize that this incident was horrific by the reactions my family gave when they took notice to the news of his death. Mom, family members, and neighbors all spoke highly of him. I briefly remember hearing bits and pieces of his speeches on the radio and TV. Regularly scheduled programming would be frequently interrupted to air his speeches. Grandma would stand or sit still at attention when his speeches were aired.

A few days later, I saw Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in the news on TV giving his last speech, ‘Have a Dream’. He was a dynamic speaker! Later that afternoon, grandma heard the announcement on the radio that he had been assassinated. Although she never mentioned or discussed this news with me because I was just a child, I did overhear her discussing this tragedy with mother and Uncle Mamon as soon as they arrived home from work. They all said that they were expecting it to happen because he was fighting for a worthy cause. Grandmother said that it seems like whenever someone stands up for right, they are always taken out by wrong. She mentioned that just five years prior, the thirty-fifth president of the United States, John F. Kennedy was assassinated in 1963; two years before my birth. We are not certain to this day why he was assassinated but grandma and other family members believed that the partial reason for his assassination was his devotion to justice and equality for all mankind, very similar to Dr. King’s devotion and mission.

Just two months later, in June of 1968, the nation suffered another horrifying incident. President Kennedy’s younger brother, United States Senator Robert Kennedy was assassinated after giving a speech at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles. My grandmother said that Senator Kennedy, known as Bobby, gave a heartfelt impromptu speech in Indianapolis when he learned of Dr. King’s assassination in April of 1968.

The atmosphere was dismal for a few days in our house after this tragedy struck. I did not get to listen to music or dance much during this time because the family was tuned in to the updates and reports of Dr. King’s and Senator Kennedy’s assassination. Moreover, my family didn’t seem to be in the mood for dancing and/or entertainment. The deaths of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Senator Robert Kennedy were heavy topics in our household, our community, as well as the entire nation.

As time passed, my family slowly returned to their normal groove, the usual day-to-day motion. As for me, that meant back to dancing! One evening while the radio played, one of my favorite songs came on the radio. I don’t quite remember the exact title of the song but I remember the lyrics containing the words ‘break down’ in it and I was trying to break it down too. Upon hearing the song and meditating on the beat, I immediately began to move and keep time with the beat of the song. My sister Margaret was in the room with me and began to take notice to my moves and summoned our mother. Margaret called to mother, Mama, come here, quick, come here, hurry. You have to see how Stein can dance. Our mother was busy in the kitchen and took a few seconds to come.

Alas, mama came into the room and stood at door way with a bit of amazement. She smiled richly as she watched her little three year baby girl get down with the beat of the music. My dance steps were sharp, quick, and light with smoothness and concord. Mother watched until the entire mini dance performance ended. When the song on the radio ended cold, my moves came to a halt sharply with it. Mother and Margaret both clapped and praised me for my performance. Mother responded with excitement, That baby can dance! Mama didn’t know that her baby couldn’t dance like that. When did you learn how to dance so well, she asked. I stood there smiling and blushing while looking at mother. My sister responded for me by saying, She has been watching us big kids dance for a while. Mom said, Well she can really do a great job, being only three years old. Her rhythm is better than some of us old folk.

Grandmother never said much when it came to my dancing abilities. Even though grandma never seemed to approve of my dancing, I truly believe, at that moment, she and the entire family came to the realization that I had a thing for the limelight . . . a gift of dance . . . a taste for entertainment! I loved to watch TV and listen to the radio religiously.

From that date onward, my life was filled with song and dance, all types of music from country/western, pop, soul, jazz, to gospel due to all the different choices of music that were preferred in my house whole. Our uncle Mamon liked the blues and some country music while mother liked Rhythm & Blues, Pop, and Gospel. Grandmother enjoyed some country/western music but mainly gospel. She was the one who really instilled the richness and soul stirring experience of Gospel music to me. The first well-known gospel song I ever heard was ‘Oh Happy Day’ by Edwin Hawkins in 1969 when I was only 4 years old. Grandmother liked that song a lot too and would sometimes sing it to me while mother was at work. She loved to sing and watch musical programs on TV. I remember seeing Edwin and his choir perform that song one Sunday morning right before it was time for us to go to church on a Gospel TV program broadcasted out of Memphis, Tennessee on NBC-Five called ‘The Oris Mays Show’. It was a Sunday Morning Gospel show that aired weekly to showcase and expose Recording Gospel Artists. Grandmother loved that show and rarely missed an episode.

After church on Sundays, we would often listen to a radio station out of Memphis, AM 1070, WDIA. I loved the DJs, Ford Nelson, Rufus Thomas, Herb the ‘K’, Theodore ‘Bless My Bones’ Wade, etc. That station aired some of the greatest gospel songs of all times and aired local ministries of Memphis from pastors like Rev. Jasper Williams. On Sundays, WDIA aired gospel all day long but Monday through Saturday it aired R & B or secular music.

Music would keep me company while mom was working and my sister was in school. I would be home with grandmother, playing with my dolls and would hear songs like ‘One of a Kind’ by the Spinners. I would drop everything at that moment to get a closer listen. I loved that song! The more I listened to music the better my dancing abilities developed. Sometimes I would dance for hours. I never seemed to get enough of music or dancing. It is mostly what I did while grandmother was busy with chores around the house, mother worked, Margaret was in school, and Uncle Mamon worked in the fields or was busy with farm work.

Our uncle Mamon worked during the week on the farm, in the fields assisting the Steiner’s with their crops. Mamon was a handsome dark skinned slim young man who stood around 6 feet. He was single with no children. I guess he really did not need any children with the convenience of having his two nieces around all the time. On weekends, he would get dressed, head to town to look around and take a drink.

His drinking started to get out of hand not long after the death of his father when I was around 4 years old. He would come home late on Saturday nights after having too many drinks and pick arguments with grandmother and mom. All the yelling and shouting would wake me up but I would lie still as though I was still asleep and listen in on the arguments. He would ambiguously wake grandmother and mom up with nagging and probing questions such as, ‘any dessert left?’ and what did y’all do with the lemon pie? If mom or grandmother answered no or gave him a response he was not expecting, a fight would begin.

He would yell, What! Who ate it all up? I bet those chullen (children) did. Chullen ain’t worth rearing these days. These accusations and connotations would escalade and eventually he would pull out his rifle and/or gun and aim it towards mom and grandmother. The more they would try to reason with him the worse he became. It resulted with us having to escape and run to the neighbor’s house for safety to call the police.

It came to a point where I dreaded weekends due to fear of what would happen with Uncle Mamon. Things were pleasant in our home until weekends. We knew that Uncle Mamon would get blasted, come home and take his frustrations out on us. As soon as we would hear his footsteps staggering upon our porch, we knew it was going to be trouble. Mom and grandmother would instruct Margaret and me to be quiet and move quickly into our bedroom. We did not understand what was happening with him at that time and neither did grandmother or mom. We just wanted this non-sense to end.

I will never forget an episode that took place at our home that was nearly fatal. One Saturday night Uncle Mamon came home highly intoxicated around 10. We were all getting ready for bed when he arrived. He had an attitude and immediately started to pick a fight with grandmother and mom. I am not sure exactly how it all started for I was only 4 years old. I only remember his voice escalating with profanity, anxiety, and rage. He rushed to the back of his room where he kept his guns, pulled out his rifle and began to point it at grandmother. When mom tried to stop him, he turned and aimed the rifle at mom. I was so frightened that I ran into grandmother’s room and hid underneath her bed. I remember grandmother yelling, Run, hurry, run for the door! Let’s get out of here. I recall mom saying, I have to get my baby. Margaret asked, Where is she? Mom really didn’t give a response due to the uncertainty and intensity of the situation. She just bent over, lifted the edge of grandmother’s bed cover, looked underneath the bed to locate me, and gently pulled me out from underneath the bed. Come on Sweet, Mom whispered as she took my hand to bring me out from underneath the bed. I was too frightened to say a word. While securing me in her arms, Mom tossed me onto her hips, grabbed Margaret by the hand, and we headed for the front door. By now, Uncle Mamon is gaining on our trail with the rifle in his hand as if he was going to shoot mom in her back. All I could do is close my eyes and hold on to mom tightly as we escaped to the neighbor’s house to phone the police. This became the norm every weekend for about 3 years. This was mind bottling for me.

At a tender age, I had already detected that our household was not the regular household. Although it was dysfunctional, what could be done about it? In a rural area such as Marvell, Arkansas, we did not have easy access to counseling and psychotropic medication as we do today. By now, I am emotionally and mentally scarred. This led my imagination to often drift off into various visions of happiness in our household excluding Uncle Mamon. I dreamed of having a nice home that included only grandma, Margaret, mom, me and plenty of music. The only things I had to hold on to were mother and my music. Questions entered my mind such as Why didn’t Uncle Mamon have a wife and his own family living separately in their own home and why mom didn’t live with dad?

We did not know exactly where Dad lived. I know that mom said when he left Marvell, Arkansas he was headed for Detroit but exactly where he lived in Detroit we did not know. I often believed that if dad was there, we would not have gone through those uneventful circumstances with Uncle Mamon. Things were not so bad at home while Uncle Mamon was working during the week and not drinking. He had a great sense of humor while he was sober during the week but weekends were to be feared.

It reached a point where we did not want to be home on weekends. Mom would take us over to our cousin’s house on Saturdays and we would stay until Sunday evenings. We would sometimes take turns spending weekends between mom’s oldest sister’s houses, Aunt Ruby’s or Aunt Beatrice’s (we called her Aunt B). Aunt Ruby and family lived in Turner (a subdivision of Marvell). She was married to Samuel T. Boyd (he went by simply ‘T’). They had seven children, Sam Jr., Ethel, LaMeatrice, Ellison, Janice, Adlie, and Ella. Ella is the youngest of them all. She (we call her Nell because her middle name is Vernell) is only six months younger than me.

Aunt B was married to Jessie B. Boyd, Uncle T’s older brother and they lived in Aubrey, Arkansas in a subdivision called 0-10. They had six children, Jessie Jr., Marvella, Essie, Bertha, Mary, and Anita. Anita is the youngest in her family. She is approximately two years older than me. We all are first cousins. Therefore, we all had the same grandmother and spent plenty of time together back and forth at each other’s homes. I loved spending nights over Aunt Ruby’s and Aunt B’s house. It was really cool hanging out with our cousins! This was the only outlet we had to escape Uncle Mamon’s tantrums and/or alcoholism.

Chapter Two

The Early Years

In between all of this drama, mom had to get me registered to begin school. I remember having to take shots or vaccinations and mom had lots of ‘ red tape’ to go through to get me enrolled into Kindergarten. Although I vaguely remember what my first day at Kindergarten was like, I do remember it being a beautiful hot sunny summer day. Classes were held only half a day. I rode the big yellow school bus without my sister or any other family member. I felt alone. I didn’t quite understand what was going on but I knew that it had to be something positive for mom to allow me to go without her.