.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Michael C. Mullins
Michael C. Mullins
Michael C. Mullins, 59, passed
away Thursday, April 7, 2011, at
his residence in Greenwood.
He was born June 6, 1951, to
Carl J. and Dorcas (Brandsteter)
Mullins.
Survivors include his mother,
Dorcas Mullins; two nephews,
Michael and David Boswell; and
an aunt, Willetta Lucas.
He was preceded in passing by
his father, Carl J. Mullins; a sister,
Carolyn J. Boswell; and a
brother-in-law, Joe Boswell.
Michael was a graduate of
Center Grove High School and
Indiana University.
Now that he's gone, the story can be told without repercussion:
When Mike was hired at the Frostop I was tasked with teaching him how to be a short order cook. Car hops would take the food/drink orders and bring them to the refreshment window. If there were kitchen-prepared items on the order, that order ticket would be hung on a rotating clip-thingy, (technical term, I know. If you need a better description, email me), and the cook would prepare the necessary items before handing sandwiches, etc. along with the order ticket back to the refreshment worker to add root beer or other drinks to the order for delivery by the car hop.
Back in the kitchen, we had a small window to peer through that gave us a view of who was parked in the lot. One day while I was teaching Mike he was watching the cars pulling up into the lot and I heard him mutter something angrily beneath his breath. When I asked what he was muttering about he pointed to the car that had just pulled in and said, "That (blankety-blank) is the guy that stole my girlfriend".
And as I recall, the subject of his anger was someone that I thought the world would be better without too. So when the order came in for a cheeseburger and fries, I allowed Mike to show me how well I had taught him to cook. We had run out of frozen hamburger patties that day and were using fresh ground hamburger, manually pressing out the patties with our hands. Mike expertly removed a tennis-ball sized chunk of meat, pressed it into patty form with his hands, slipped the patty beneath his armpit and rolled it around, then fried it up, added a slice of cheese and sent it on its way to consumption.
We giggled as we watched the "bad guy" eat his sandwich.
I sure liked Mike.
Lord, when he shows up at your gate give him a hug for me and remember...
We were just stupid teen-agers at the time.
Forgive us both, please.
Michael C. Mullins, 59, passed
away Thursday, April 7, 2011, at
his residence in Greenwood.
He was born June 6, 1951, to
Carl J. and Dorcas (Brandsteter)
Mullins.
Survivors include his mother,
Dorcas Mullins; two nephews,
Michael and David Boswell; and
an aunt, Willetta Lucas.
He was preceded in passing by
his father, Carl J. Mullins; a sister,
Carolyn J. Boswell; and a
brother-in-law, Joe Boswell.
Michael was a graduate of
Center Grove High School and
Indiana University.
Now that he's gone, the story can be told without repercussion:
When Mike was hired at the Frostop I was tasked with teaching him how to be a short order cook. Car hops would take the food/drink orders and bring them to the refreshment window. If there were kitchen-prepared items on the order, that order ticket would be hung on a rotating clip-thingy, (technical term, I know. If you need a better description, email me), and the cook would prepare the necessary items before handing sandwiches, etc. along with the order ticket back to the refreshment worker to add root beer or other drinks to the order for delivery by the car hop.
Back in the kitchen, we had a small window to peer through that gave us a view of who was parked in the lot. One day while I was teaching Mike he was watching the cars pulling up into the lot and I heard him mutter something angrily beneath his breath. When I asked what he was muttering about he pointed to the car that had just pulled in and said, "That (blankety-blank) is the guy that stole my girlfriend".
And as I recall, the subject of his anger was someone that I thought the world would be better without too. So when the order came in for a cheeseburger and fries, I allowed Mike to show me how well I had taught him to cook. We had run out of frozen hamburger patties that day and were using fresh ground hamburger, manually pressing out the patties with our hands. Mike expertly removed a tennis-ball sized chunk of meat, pressed it into patty form with his hands, slipped the patty beneath his armpit and rolled it around, then fried it up, added a slice of cheese and sent it on its way to consumption.
We giggled as we watched the "bad guy" eat his sandwich.
I sure liked Mike.
Lord, when he shows up at your gate give him a hug for me and remember...
We were just stupid teen-agers at the time.
Forgive us both, please.
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