MALL GIRLS

      This morning I invited myself to breakfast at Bill and Phyllis Calliss'.  Breakfast was excellent and before I left, Bill showed me this picture from the September, 2011 National Geographic of the Women's Land Army.  Women from all over Britain worked on farms during WWII.  This is a picture from the archives.  Bill said:  "When I saw this picture, I thought this could be the Mall girls".   He's right!  Even though this picture is of their backsides, you have the feeling  that these are strong, secure women with a purpose.  That's a Mall girl.
      A Mall girl is not someone with big hair who hangs out at the local shopping center - although I suppose they did that  - but  a woman who is responsible, caring, generally upbeat, is not afraid to show her feelings and always has a good time doing what she sets out to do - or at least makes you believe that she is.  One of them is in heaven, loving us from there and finding us parking places.....but that's another story. 
       Vern taught them how to do things outside.  They worked in the yard and the garden.  He taught them to fish.  They all like the outdoors.   Many of them are involved in the sport of shooting clays.   Yet, they are all very feminine and most of them are excellent seamstresses.   Their homes make you feel at home.  They love people and animals  Right now all of them have responsible careers and  their jobs are coincidentally in some form of marketing.

      There were times in Washington, Illinois when they were notorious or infamous - depending on who you talk to.   Our granddaughter, Ellen, once asked her dad if she could change her last name because she wanted to be a Mall girl.   I love them.  I also like them - there were many times when I didn't.  Living with them was not always easy.  I'm remembering all those years when we just had one bathroom.  They loved their father so much.  At the end of his life, they took turns round the clock sitting with him.  He would have panic attacks when he thought he couldn't get his breath.  One of my best memories is coming in to his ICU room in the middle of the night and Alissa sitting on the step stool, asleep with her head against the side of the bed reaching up, holding his hand.  That is pure love.  It could have been any of the others on any other night.

      If they had lived in Britain in the 1940s, they would have belonged to the WLA.  It would have been a new adventure and they are always open to trying something new.  As a group they can be a bit overwhelming at times, but they are loyal to each other and to me.   I am blessed.




Clockwise:  Mary, Alissa, Lora, Angela, Maureen in 1998