Non-Compliant Women

A tribute to two of my ancestors

Mildred (aka. Millie) was known best and broadest for her work as a Sam’s Club greeter who wore roller skates to work every day. Because I know you’ll ask: No, she was not granted special permission in advance. She decided one day it was how she wanted to work this customer service job at 63 years old and showed up on eight wheels. Her manager succumbed and said okay, if she would wear a helmet and wrist guards. Millie agreed. Seattle’s local news even covered her in a 5-minute spot.

Millie worked this job until she couldn’t. She retired her skates after her terminal skin cancer diagnosis.

Millie was a dedicated Christian who married too fast and too young to escape an abusive family. She helped start a Four Square church in Southern California. I’m not sure how she’d feel about the title, “church planter.”

She smoked and laughed and cursed in Portuguese. She loved gold jewelry and sun bathing. Millie built a scale model of the temple from the Old Testament. She dressed up as a witch for Halloween. She called her favorite recipes authentic Azorean when they were simply her favorites.

Her early trauma made her a hard mom; but time formed her into a more thoughtful grandma who sent Barbie dolls on birthdays.

Millie wrestled with God like Jacob through her spiritual (and familial) trauma. She named sin in the church and lost a lot because of it. In the end, Jesus was her nearest friend and she was not afraid to die.

Christine Lee Smith, “Untitled #11,” Ordinary Time, 2025.

Martha from Olathe, Kansas, you regularly licked and lifted a middle finger to the sky to test the direction of the wind. I’m convinced you said, “Well, allll-beee,” daily.

You planted tomatoes in your garden. You sent grandpa out on a ladder at 80 to pick plums and apricots from your back yard trees. You trusted gravity to help you collect your avocados. They were all delicious.

Martha, you wore polyester pants and hand knit sweaters until you passed. Never a fan of dresses, I think I saw you wear one twice — on your 50th wedding anniversary and at grandpa’s funeral.

You ran a grocery store and called yourself a Methodist. I’m not sure you truly understood what that meant. I’m more certain you absolutely did not care.

You cared for me with back scratches, burnt toast, and taught me to love The Golden Girls. I wonder if you secretly wanted to be a “Rose” even through you were absolutely an undercover “Dorothea”.

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Martha and Millie, you carved your own life paths without realizing the legacy of creative non-compliance you each left behind in your wakes.

Bless you both. Thank you for showing me a glimpse of what was possible.