Mill Kids

It really is all about perspective, isn’t it?  I grew up in Greenville, Maine.  Lived on the street that led to the plywood mill where my Dad worked.  Headed home each summer day at 4:30 when the whistle blew. Grew up thinking I was from the bad part of town.  Wrong side of the tracks.  I was a Mill Kid.  It really was a term used by everyone in my town, and it was perceived as being derogatory.   I actually remember, at the ripe old age of nine, begging my parents to move to a different part of town, and my Dad stifling a grin as my Mum just said, “Why would we do that?”   Needless to say, that move never happened.

So…..I took my Ohio born and raised husband back to Maine a number of years back, and we went on a little tour of my old neighborhood.  I shared with him the stigma of being a Mill Kid.  He actually laughed out loud at me.  (My Dad really would have liked this guy)  My husband said, “You grew up on a lake! You swam in water where you can see your feet, looking at those gorgeous mountains! You rode your bike and climbed those trees and waded in that brook?  This is one idyllic childhood!   You should be very proud of what your parents gave you”.  I looked around, seeing it for the first time through unbiased eyes, and realized it was high time I shed that chip on my shoulder.

Proud to be a Mill Kid.  That trip back to my roots was a wake up call for my Blessings in Disguise. Have a listen, this song so works for the experience of waking up, no matter how many years it might take to do it.