Remembering Perkerson Park

Perkerson Park is a 50-acre park in Atlanta. I have never been there in person, but thanks to my good friends, Prentice, and Mary Ann, I feel that I have. The park now has a golf course and splash pool, but back in the late 60s it provided a quiet place for two young lovers to meet and plan their future.

We met Prentice and Mary Ann Mills at our former church in Nashville, Eastwood Christian. We quickly became friends with the two and began a fascinating friendship. Without a doubt, I can honestly say they were the most enigmatic and interesting people I have ever had the privilege to know.

Prentice grew up near El Paso, the son of a correctional officer father and a full-blooded Choctaw mother. He had two brothers, and all three Mills boys were smart, talented, and full of charisma. Right before his senior year, the family moved from Texas to Atlanta, GA. It was there the young Prentice first laid eyes on a pretty brown-eyed girl named Mary Ann. If you believe in love at first sight, insert Prentice Mills. He spent the rest of his education dreaming about one day marrying this angel he had discovered.

Fast forward through a tangled web of intrigue with rabid Church of Christ followers, many late night meetings at Perkerson Park, a misguided military betrothal, and college days; some of that time spent apart. To hear Prentice talk about it, they were apart for years when in actuality it was months. Alas, love prevailed and Prentice got his wish when the two married on February 10, 1972.

After both finished law school, they set out to see America in a VW van and spent the first years of their marriage buying and reselling goods at festivals and flea markets. Both seemed to have an eye for what people would buy. They’d make enough money to move on to the next stop. When I envision the hippies of the 60s, I think of these two. Prentice would quickly bristle at that description because he felt it portrayed them as drug-induced radicals. No one would ever accuse either of them with that label, but they were the flower children who longed to make the world a better place. Idealistic, romantic, hungry to help those in need.

In his later years Prentice always said their generation had made a huge mess of things and he was totally disillusioned. A bitter pill for a classical romantic to swallow. His undergraduate degree was in Greek Classics, and he could even still read the Greek text! Just another fascinating detail to add to the many others.

Prentice was a lovable misogynist. He felt that women should be cherished and protected. Any woman that allowed herself to curse and dress immodestly was not acting in the proper manner of her calling. As radical as he was in his belief in social justice, he was equally radical about his sense of morality especially where women were concerned. He didn’t think women were second, he truly believed they were first, and therefore should be placed on a pedestal. He certainly did that in Mary Ann’s case. I always wanted to ask her if that was a burden or a gift. I never did.

The two came off the road when they discovered Mary Ann was expecting their first and only child, a son. They settled in Atlanta and finally put their law degrees to use by opening their own law firm. Mary Ann, always the practical one, ran the office and interviewed potential clients while Prentice was the one to stand in court and argue the cases. And argue he did. Prentice loved to “debate” with anyone over anything. You quickly figured out that you’d never win, and even a bull would grow weary and walk away. They continued their love of social justice with the clients they chose to represent; the poor, the marginalized. It was hard work, and not much money but they both felt better for trying.

As the times changed, they both grew tired of the fight and decided to pull up the stakes and move. Literally, they put a map of the United States up and Prentice told Mary Ann to take a dart and throw it. Wherever it landed, they would head there. She threw it and it landed smack on Nashville.

They settled into an old two-story house in the lower east side of Nashville. Their son grew up in that house and Prentice coached his little league team with two other dads in the neighborhood. It was the “wrong” side of Nashville during those days. Long before it became the “it” place to live.

They told us countless stories of how word got around the neighborhood that if you got in a bit of trouble, the Mills would help. Many nights they would be awakened by people at their backdoor needing something. Food, money, a ride to the hospital, etc. They never turned a single person away. In turn, they were never robbed or bothered in one of the most crime ridden areas of Nashville in the 80s.

When we met the two, Prentice was still recovering from a major heart attack. At some point, one of the medications he had been prescribed severely damaged his kidneys. The doctors did not give him a great recovery record.

Mary Ann was quieter than Prentice and usually let him take the floor. Prentice never shut up, but when Mary Ann did speak, you really wanted to hear what she had to say. For me, she was Mother Earth in human form. There were no plants, vegetables, or flowers she could not grow, OR tell you everything about. She was an artist and designed countless t-shirts for the business they ran in the basement of that old house. She could fix anything mechanical. Many times, we’d drive up in their drive to see her lying under their van fixing some part that had gone awry. She was the female version of MacGyver.

Once Prentice had his heart attack and then kidney damage, she literally figured out what foods would help heart and kidney function and made a menu based on those foods. He would grumble and complain about the things he missed eating, but her efforts improved his kidney function by 30%. The doctors were completely amazed. This was rarely ever seen in their work.

She made fresh bread every week, homemade tortillas that would become enchilada’s using every kind of pepper you can name. Peppers were one of the things that Prentice could have as many as he could eat. She literally learned the science behind food to keep him alive. That and the 7-10 miles a day they walked through East Nashville – mostly at night. (As an aside, we cannot discount his stubborn streak as big as Texas itself.)

There was no instrument that Prentice could not play. He’d say, “Oh I dabble a little on the drums, or guitar, or whatever. He’d then turn around and play the thing like a professional. He wrote and recorded hundreds of songs. I think at one time he thought he may be able to break into the music business in Nashville. Sadly, that did not happen. As he would say, not enough drinking and cheating in his songs.

Sometime around 2011, they moved from East Nashville to Columbia, TN. We’d make the trek down 65S to visit often. One note when visiting – you needed to make sure you had no plans for the next day because you’d end up staying well into the morning hours. When we first met, we had moved into a house down the street from them. We’d go visit at 5 p.m. and drag home at 3 a.m. Sometimes we’d go from their house to the Biscuit House nearby for breakfast before heading to bed. So, if you had plans the next day, you begged off. Both were perpetual night owls, so they were just getting revved up at midnight.

In 2013, we left Nashville for southern Mississippi. Every trip into Nashville, we’d stop off on the way home for a long visit. We never lost contact and in 2019 they let us know they were moving to northern California to be closer to their son. Prentice’s kidney issues had worsened, and they felt the need to be in CA.

We made a quick weekend trip to Columbia to see them before the move. As usual, we stayed up until the early morning hours and talked about everything under the sun. Well Prentice and Caston talked, and Mary Ann and I laughed. There was of course music and Mary Ann’s enchiladas.

We got to see their “straw bale” garden. They were into perma-culture and organic gardening before it became a fad. Mary Ann always laughed when someone used the term “organic.” She said that was how everyone planted for years and years until industrialization arrived in our country. She had a point. They had a garage full of canned jars they had to pack to make the trip to CA. They could have fed six families easily with the harvest the two of them grew in that small backyard. I never left their house without a bag of “goodies” from Mary Ann’s pantry or some trinket she picked up thinking I may like it.

On Saturday, we piled up in the van and headed to Lynnville, a small community nearby that had an old soda fountain restaurant. It was the home of the “Big Johnny Burger.” Caston and I already had a love for Soda Pop Junction because we recorded our album, “Home” across the street. Often, we’d walk over to eat after hours of recording.

When we started to leave for home on Sunday, we stood in their driveway for the longest time hugging and promising to keep in touch. No one said it, but I think we all four understood this may be the last time we’d be together. Caston and I were both emotional as we exited onto 65S towards MS. Sadly, we were right.

They settled in the small town of Colusa about two hours northeast of Sacramento where their son lived. Prentice eventually went on dialysis, and ever the innovator, Mary Ann asked to be trained how to perform all the tasks so that they did not have to make long trips to the doctor every day.

I am amazed at how she managed to do this, but she did. Mary Ann was equally as talented as Prentice. She was always learning some new wood instrument I’d never heard of, or carving beautiful artisan bowls from stumps of wood they would find somewhere.

It wasn’t long before Prentice’s health really went downhill that she was diagnosed with ALS. How could this insidious disease by my friend’s path? I cried big ugly tears when we heard the diagnosis. In true fashion, she never acted as though she was upset, or angry. As with all things, she just took it in stride and made the best of things.

Covid hit and we were concerned about both. Somehow, they made it through. In mid-2022, we knew things were not great when he had to be admitted to the hospital. He fought in true stubborn Texas style but left us on September 27, 2022. Mary Ann contacted me the week after to let me know she was moving in with their son and his wife to Sacramento.

The last time I spoke with her live you had to listen very closely to understand what she was saying. The disease had already started working on her vocal cords. She had just been given a feeding tube as swallowing had become an issue. She talked about missing her morning coffee the most. I hung up the phone and cried big ugly tears again.

As her condition worsened, we’d exchange texts and emails. Then finally I would text, and she would hit the thumbs up button to let me know she had read it, no longer able to type. I then switched to sending cards and letters, knowing that she could not respond. I didn’t care. I was doing it as much for myself as I was her.

Sunday, we got the news that she passed peacefully Saturday, September 23. Four days before the 1-year anniversary of Prentice’s passing. It was also the Autumn Equinox. The time where the harvest has been gathered and now nature begins its preparation for the winter hibernation. How like my friend, Mother Earth’s finest student to choose this day as her departure.

I have no doubts that her big romantic Texan was waiting to welcome her home. I can picture their restored VW van, who they named Minnie, gassed up and ready to roll. Caston and I will forever be grateful to have known these two unusual, but loving people.

Thank you for the memories, dear friends. Save us a seat for a Big Johnny’s Burger, but in the meantime, enjoy your drive through Perkerson Park once more.