Connie Ann Mills was born January 31, 1966 and left earth on June 2, 2021. I met her in seventh grade at Penn Junior High in Bloomington, Minnesota. Her obituary said she died of a pulmonary embolism.
When we met in seventh grade, Connie earned the moniker "Dear Abby." (Ironically, she had a sister named Abbe, but we were referring to the advice columnist.) Connie was a good listener and a compassionate friend. She made you feel valued and cared about. I spilled many a girlhood challenges into her listening ears.
We were both in theatre (her in seventh grade; me not until eighth grade) and loved being part of plays. We bonded over our experiences and shared many common friends.
When Bloomington Lincoln High School closed, she went to Jefferson HS and I went to cross-town rival Kennedy. We kept in touch, attending one another's shows and doing the summer musicals together. One of my (rare) parties that I hosted was a costume party. I don't remember what character she dressed as, but she looked so beautiful!
Here's her senior pic and what she
wrote on the back. She really was one of my closest friends in my teen years.
I'm thankful I had someone kind and loving in my inner circle! (The inscription says, "Jeanne, I love you. The times we've shared have been great. We are really graduating together (in our hearts). I care. Keep in touch. Love, Connie.")
Sometime during the summer of 1984 (after HS graduation), Connie and I drove up to her grandparents' cabin near Ely, Minnesota. When we got to Duluth, I tried teaching her how to drive a stick shift. My car at the time was a Chevrolet Chevette. Learning how to drive a stick on the hills of Duluth was not a brilliant idea! Connie kept stalling the car and I ended up doing all the driving.
When we were at her grandparents' cabin, it was just the two of us. Being such daring teenage girls, we decided to sunbathe topless. No tan lines, right? What a huge mistake! I had the worst sunburn of my life on a part of my body that had never before seen sunlight! Many years later, a sister-in-law suggested topless sunbathing. My answer was a resounding, "No!" She thought I was being a prude; I was simply remembering a lesson Connie and I had learned the hard way back in 1984!
My mom took a picture of me the following week. Wearing polyester and working in a hot kitchen with sunburn all over was NOT a pleasant experience. I honestly don't remember how much sun Connie got that weekend . . . and I don't have photos of her from that week. I don't think this photo adequately shows the pain I was in!
As college students, we went to see
a play by Emile Zola. It blew my mind! We discussed it, thinking we were such
intellectuals. I believe it was "Germinal," but I'm not 100%
sure.
When I got married in 1986, she and Lisa Middag were my personal attendants, helping me to get ready and stay calm. She sang at our wedding. I've posted clips before, but I'm adding links here for posterity's sake.
She sang Make Me a Channel of Your Peace and Annie's Song. I hope I'm not violating any copyright laws by uploading these! The quality isn't the best because I used the VHS tape from over thirty years ago to digitize, then uploaded these clips to YouTube. To me, she was such a wonderful singer! I was surprised that she was nervous on the day. What a gift she gave me by being willing to sing.
I don't remember when we had our first conversation about faith. We had both grown up attending Catholic churches (Connie at St. Edward's and me at Assumption, then St. Joan of Arc in Mpls) with our families and we both had some interesting family dynamics. Whether we were teenagers or young women, I just remember saying something about how pointless hermits were. My perspective was that they didn't do anyone any good sitting somewhere isolated to just pray. She really taught me about the importance of prayer and focusing on God alone. Sometimes people need to be by themselves to get serious about prayer. Connie was such a blessing!
We didn't connect quite as much in
the 1990s and early 2000s because I was pretty focused on raising my kids and
teaching. I went to see her show "I Remember Mama" that she
directed in White Bear Lake.
Sometimes, she, Jenifer Beaudoin, Leslie Byzewski, and I got together for lunch or an outing. Golf was a hoot! It was so nice to reconnect and catch up. This picture is from Todd Koopman's wedding. Louie and I had a different wedding to go to (Rebecca and Alex) so I just dropped off a gift and wished Todd and his husband well. Going out on a boat on Lake Minnetonka and then being south of Belle Plaine a few hours later just wasn't going to work!
In more recent years, I visited her
at her home in St. Paul periodically. She lived on the top floor (condo) of a
three story house! Good exercise going up the stairs, though she still smoked
cigarettes. I brought Joshua over to visit with her when he was little. We sat
outside on the grass and had lunch. She was so happy that I had a grandchild.
(She was one of Morgan's "godparents," along with Brad and Amy
Gustafson.)
She often had a pet. Daphne was her beloved dog. She had a black cat who looked like a vampire!
For her birthday in 2021, my sisters
and I stopped by the condo after the St. Paul Winter Carnival puzzle contest. I
had a gift for her. She didn't answer her phone or come to the door. I was
concerned about her and left voice mails. I ended up dropping the gift off
later in the week at her sister's house in Edina (I forget which sister lived
there).
I saved screenshots of our last text
exchanges that I have on my phone still. The first one is from Sunday, May 17, 2020. She had sent me photos of her black cat. I don't remember his name . . . The "blue" text on the right is me. The ones aligned left in white are Connie's.
I last saw Connie less than two months before she died.
She was always such an encourager!
I keep wanting to write more stories, find more photos, draw this out . . . but it's already been almost four years since she died. I'll hold her in my heart as long as I'm alive and my memory still works. I loved her dearly and am still a little shocked that she's gone. I love you, Connie.
