Love you Grandpa. Miss you. Building chicken coop soon...

Just dropping in to say "Hi Dad" I miss you...

Love:
Steven

I enjoyed knowing John and appreciated his many abilities and genuine caring for those around him.  I will miss him.

I remember my dad with much love and admiration.  I admired him for his sense of duty and devotion to his family, his patience and loyalty. Dad had a great sense of humor and regularly shared many funny stores and jokes with all of us and we looked forward to hearing them.  He was warm and kind to me my entire life and I miss him very much.

Condolences

My mother, Gun Rudahl (maiden name Andersson) and I met John Arthur Mills when he visited Sweden with his son Jim and daughter-in-law Cindy as part of their Scandinavian trip a few years ago. As cousins, Gun and John share close ties with our relations in Mangskog in the Värmland region of Sweden. We had the pleasure of showing John, Jim and Cindy around Stockholm and reminiscing about the Swedish branch of the family. We also took them to my home in Tällberg, which overlooks Lake Siljan in the County of Dalarna. From there they traveled to meet other surviving Andersson family members in the Mangskog area. 
We remember John with much affection. He was a warm and pleasant man and will be sadly missed. Our deepest condolences to all family members.

Yvonne, Tom, Nic Edwards, Gun, Rolf, Ralf, Åsa Rudahl, Stockholm, Sweden

Thank you all for coming here today to commemorate my dad's life and to remember and reflect on what he brought to us all.

The music you heard while you were being seated was from Chet Atkins, a guitar player whose records my parents listened to frequently when my family lived in what we called the “little house” in Prairie View, IL during the mid-fifties. My dad was also partial to polkas.

Let's briefly go back to the formative early days of his life with his parents, brother, and sisters.
Many people immigrate to the US primarily to find work and this was probably the reason his parents came. My father's mother, Elizabeth, and his father, John August, immigrated independently to the US from Sweden just after the turn of the 20th century. Now, iron was discovered in the northeastern part of Minnesota in the second half of the nineteenth century near Lake Superior and many jobs opened up there. Iron mining in open pit mines required that the ground be broken up so that steam shovels could remove massive amounts of ore. I may not have this quite right but according to census records I have for that time as well as some other records, they may have met near Hibbing, Minnesota where John August operated a blasthole drill that was used to break up the ground in the iron fields and Elizabeth worked as a domestic servant in a rooming house. They moved to Illinois and married in the Chicago area. 

John August, my dad's father, began a relatively successful carpentry contracting business in the years preceding the worldwide economic depression of the early 30's. The depression caused him to lose the houses he had built on speculation and the now large Mills family which included their 6 surviving children began living a meager existence in various rented houses. The depression made a deep and lasting impression on my dad which explains his extremely frugal nature. He was a staunch believer in the “waste not, want not” philosophy throughout his life. Since times were bleak and his family life was economically stressed, my dad began to work with his father on construction jobs rather than continue his high school education. Fortunately, with the sponsorship of numerous unions, Washburne Trade and Continuance school in Chicago began training high school age students for various vocational careers during the 20's and 30's. So, my father decided to enroll in this school and serve a four year carpenter apprenticeship under his father's direction.

The world was uneasy relatively soon after the end of the first world war in 1918 while observing the alarming re-emergence of German military power and Japanese territorial seizures in the 30's. One of America's reactions to this climate of unrest was its own military preparation by instituting the U.S. military draft as a law in September, 1940, more than a full year before the US declared war on Japan on December 7, 1941. My father's apprenticeship was interrupted when he was drafted in 1941, before the declaration of war, and he served four years in the US Army as an MP in Australia, New Guinea, and various posts in the US. Military life did not suit him and so he was glad when he received an honorable discharge after his long service. Unfortunately, in 1942, while serving overseas, his father was killed in a car-train accident and this event weighed on him throughout his life. Upon separating from the Army, he completed his apprenticeship under the direction of his employer for the next 26 years, Clarence Zillmer of Winnetka, IL.

In 1947, the beginning of the post World War II era, he married Julia Ann Kracht, my mother. Together they raised their five children but suffered the loss of my older brother, John Arthur, in 1971. Almost immediately after my parents' marriage began the long days, weeks, months, and years building or remodeling a long succession of houses we enjoyed and toiled over as a family. The profit made on these houses was my parents' primary means to better our family's life in a significant way. The houses were remodeled or built while my dad worked his full time job and were, at least, definitive evidence of his and my mother's personal endurance, determination, and hopefulness. These houses were in: Wheeling, IL; Prairie View/Horatio Gardens (2), IL; Deerfield (2), IL; Martin, TN; Carbondale, IL (2); and, finally, Crosby, TX.

To me he did not express his views on politics much and religion even less. He felt he knew what was right and what was wrong and left those topics right there. I believe he was actually too busy and was always working too hard to bother himself with the antics and ills of the general population. But, he was very interested to read about and discuss the history of the US West.

My dad had a love of golf even though he had little time for it. He also developed a great interest in US stamp collecting. But, without a doubt, his greatest interest was fishing. Throughout the years, there was rarely the time when he would pass up the opportunity to go out in the boat and spend the day fishing. All of us have many happy shared memories of these fishing trips.

For example……I will relate a small tale about a fishing outing at Tycoon Lake in Ohio while he visited my sister, Cathy, and her husband, Russ.
This is the story as told by Cathy:

        It all started the very next morning after Dad came to visit us in Gallipolis, Ohio. We decided to try a popular fishing spot just north of us in Rio Grande. It was a beautiful summer day and after having what we thought was enough breakfast and coffee we loaded up the van. Since we didn't own a fishing boat but had sufficient gear for each of us such as rods and reels, a tackle box filled with hooks, weights and bobbers, and a net, I knew we would have to fish from shore. The drive up was just a short 15 minute ride to the small convenience store that sold fishing licenses. I waited in the car while Dad went in to get his license and a box of red wigglers. He quickly came back to the car with the bait but no license. He said they told him he didn't really need one, which I questioned and doubted. In the end, he convinced me it would be okay to fish without a license, so we proceeded to the lake.  After driving up the short winding road to the parking lot, I could see by all of the boat trailers we were not alone and this was a weekday. Dad wasted little time getting his line in the water and started casting off as well, trying to keep an eye out for all the copperhead snakes. There must have been a recent hatching because there were way too many that day. Several people left their well-guarded fishing spots due to this dangerous annoyance. In spite of the venomous snakes, though, Dad had a catch and release system well in place and he caught quite a few small bluegills and catfish. As it was approaching lunchtime, I was getting hungry. So I thought I would make one last cast into the water just casting along the shady shoreline. I was fantasizing that this was really a deep coldwater northern lake stocked with very hungry muskies just waiting to bite into my little jointed pikie. Well, that fantasy faded fast because watching us through the trees was none other than the Gallia County Game Warden.  However, he didn't approach us as we packed up our gear and headed for lunch. I let Dad know that we had been observed fishing and that maybe we shouldn't go back. He said, why worry? He probably wouldn't be there in the afternoon. So going against my better judgment and a bad gut feeling, we went back. No sign of the Game Warden so Dad very enthusiastically put his line back into the water and started casting, until it was too late. He came out of nowhere, and believe me I was watching very nervously. He approached Dad and asked to see his Ohio fishing license. Well, Dad couldn't produce a valid license and neither could I. Dad sheepishly explained that the clerk at the convenience store said that he really didn't need to have one.   Well this made the Game Warden very angry because after all “It's OUR law!” that you broke you good for nothing out of state lawbreaker! The Game Warden insisted we follow him back into town and go before the court presided by southern Ohio's famous Judge Medley.  I was a nervous wreck. We approached the bench while the Game Warden fired off all the laws we had broken and insisted we be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Well, I think Judge Medley realized that this was an extreme overreaction on the part of this officer, but, after assuring us that we had indeed broken the law, we were going to pay. And pay some more. There was a fine and court costs of over $245 paid and new fishing licenses were purchased.  It was a story never to be told . . . until now!  

 
My dad set a few interesting examples that may or may not be examples to emulate. He was a hard, patient, and persistent worker who valued a simple and stress-limiting lifestyle rather than a materialistic one. It is true that he kept a very limited…maybe over-limited social calendar. But, he always enjoyed his immediate and extended family and was no stranger to them.

His greatest gift to his family was his time. He was involved in the many ad hoc and informal family get-togethers over many years. He was included and he included himself in all of our family projects and activities. 

But, no one could ever say that he had a heavy hand or ever attempted to over-steer the family….actually quite the opposite. Because he did not micro-manage, the individuals in his family were more able to develop freely and naturally. 

He was an immense influence on us all and he is missed by everyone.

Thanks again for gathering here today to commemorate his long and very influential life.

We are very grateful to have had the opportunity to meet John Arthur Mills and to get to
know him when he visited us and Norway in 2008. His son, Jim Mills persuaded him to take this long journey to Sweden and Norway, when he was 89 years old. We met a man in good shape and very curious about everything we had to tell about our family and history of Norway At this time he was the oldest and the Head of our family.
We will remember John Arthur Mills, as nice, warm and a man with humour.
Our deepest condolences to the whole family Mills
Linn, Lars, Celina, Bente & Stein-Rune Mill, Son - Norway

May your memories of the wonderful times you shared with your loved one comfort you and your family, today and always.

OBITUARIO

John Arthur Mills

8 octubre, 1919 – 14 enero, 2013

American Heritage Funeral Home

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