The Journey of an American Boy

By E. G. McMillan

Journey of an American Boy is about the true story of life from birth to the age of eighteen. It tells of the places lived, friends made, and family togetherness. It tells of the struggle in life after the authors father died in prison and through living in many places and having to make new friends in them. It traces the life and brings to light the good and bad times.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Aug 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496989703

E. G. McMillan

E. G. McMillan was born in Ponca City, Oklahoma, in 1953. With Scottish and Irish bloodlines, he always held family values with the highest standard. While spending the last twenty-eight years in the drilling industry, he dabbled in writing stories about things in his life and was persuaded by family to put them down in a book. As the father of three sons, he played an important part in raising them to the standards he himself was raised with. And from being a boy, he indulged himself in things like camping out, fishing, and the Boy Scouts, among others. Today, he resides in Scotland and is married to an English lady that helped push him to get started on writing. With many ideas for both fiction and nonfiction, he is planning to come out with more books in the future. We hope you enjoy them all.

Book preview

Chapter 1

In the Beginning

Where do I begin? Lets start at the beginning. No wait! Lets start before the beginning. My mother’s maiden name was Marjorie Ellen Clark and her mother’s maiden name was Mary Maude Ussery. They both told me that mom’s side of our family was from Irish decent with a bit of Dutch. My paternal father’s name was Earnest Glenn McMillan Sr. and mom told me his side was predominately Scottish with a bit of Cherokee. So I am a mixed breed to say the least as most of us are in the USA. As far as the Scottish go, the McMillan clan has a coat of arms and tartan, not to mention a rich history. I had a great uncle that wrote a genealogy of the McMillan clan but what I remember about it started with Adam and Eve then he tied it in with the McMillan / MacMillan clan and then himself, which was most of the book. Through the years I have made small attempts to trace the McMillan Clan but to no avail. My mother was born in Oklahoma I think and my father was born in Missouri I believe but don’t have proof of any of that. So I don’t know when the McMillan clan immigrated to the USA or the Ussery / Clark clans did either. As fate would have it, I relocated to Scotland in 2003 and married Tina-Jane, a lovely English lady. It just seems that every time I try to trace my Scottish heritage, they always want a load of money. And, I really don’t have a starting point so it becomes difficult. So that’s the past family names and a bit of history. Just a bit. So let’s begin with me. Earnest Glenn McMillan Jr.

I was born in August 1953 in Ponca City Oklahoma at the Grandview Hospital. Or it could have been the Grand Avenue Hospital. I was what was called a Blue Baby in the day. That meant that my mothers blood and my fathers blood didn’t mix and I might have to have a full blood transfusion at birth. When I was born, I was a very dark bluish color but got better in a few days. The result was that my blood type is A Negative, a bit on the rare side. My paternal father’s story is one in itself but you must know that he died when I was a small boy. I don’t remember him but heard stories of what a great guy he was and how much he loved me. About the only memory I have of him at all is when Mom, Grandma and myself went to visit him in the penitentiary. I must have been too young to go in, so Grandma and I sat in the car. I remember we were parked in front of this very large building. I sat in the back seat and Grandma sat in the front. I must have been about 4 years old at the time and didn’t grasp the whole concept of prison. We just sat there and waited on Mom. It seemed like hours before she came out but when she did, she handed me a leather hand tooled twin holster. She said my Dad had made it for me and we would buy some cap guns later. I had that holster for years before our dog chewed it up and Mom threw it away. Other than some pictures of my dad, that’s the only memory I have of him. I was told that he was arrested for breaking and entering and wound up in prison in Missouri. He later ran from the law and went under the assumed name of Cecil V. Snow and joined the army. I think he fought in the Korean war but not sure. I was told that when he got out the law caught up with him and back to prison he went in Joplin Missouri. He died in prison when I was around 4 or 5. I really didn’t know him. Little did I know that there would be a couple more men to come into my life in the years to come. But for a few years, mom and I were on our own, or so to speak. Grandma was around and she was a big part of my life as well. I spent a lot of time with her as a very young boy while my mother worked. Now Grandma was a nurse in WW2 and had married twice in her life, but I don’t remember her ever having a husband in my time. She was born with a birthmark that covered about 60% of her face, but nothing slowed her down. She lived on her own most of the time in small places and I would spend the night often and she would take me to the park and let me play on the swings while she sat and watched from a bench. She really loved me and I cared for her a lot, to say the least. I don’t remember much about my early childhood, but I do remember my first Christmas.

Chapter 2

A Christmas Memory

The first Christmas that I remember took place when I was about the age of 5 or 6, or maybe even a little younger. It was before Jeff was even a thought. Some of the things are a bit sketchy but what I remember most is my mother and I in a small apartment with only the two of us for company. I’m not sure where we lived at the time. The apartment was small and cold and was only heated by the old-fashioned cast iron radiator. Momma said a few days before Christmas that we were going to have a special old-fashioned Christmas. I was so excited but didn’t know what an old-fashioned Christmas was. Then came the night we did it. I think it was Christmas Eve. Momma had brought home a live Christmas tree and we hauled it upstairs. It was scraggly and half dead but at the time it looked like a giant redwood tree to me. We set it up in front of a window and Momma opened up a bag with all sorts of things in it. She explained to me that Christmas is in the soul and you didn’t have to have lights on a tree to make it fun. She had bought a record album of Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas songs and got out the record player. We got out the glue, scissors, glitter and tape and began making decorations for the tree. She fixed hot chocolate and we sang along with the Alvin and the Chipmunks as we made the decorations. She had colored paper that we made paper chains out of and circled around the tree. We made stars, balls and other ornaments that we hung ever so carefully in just those certain places as not to over decorate the tree. She popped some popcorn and we got needles and thread and threaded the popcorn into long strings. When finished, we tied them together and spiralled them around the tree too. The last thing to do was make a special star for the top. We worked on this together and when it was finished, I felt the 3 wise men would surly see it in their travels. Momma told me stories on this night of how she and her siblings decorated their trees just like this in her childhood. What a special tree it was. I was so proud of it and we had so much fun doing it. I don’t remember what I got for Christmas that year but I will never forget the tree or Momma. I realized later in life that this very smart woman had foreseen a very short and skimpy Christmas. She wanted to give me something that I would always cherish and remember. Toys were not the issue that year but love was. It was just Momma and I. As I finish this with tears in my eyes I regret to say that I don’t think I have ever given anyone in my life such a wonderful Christmas as the one Momma gave me that year. For the rest of my life at home, we always had fun putting up a tree whether it was real or fake. We had all kinds of trees as I was growing up but going to pick one out at a Christmas tree lot was always exciting and mom even made that fun. I miss her.

Chapter 3

A Step-Dad and a little Brother

It was sometime around the age of 6 when my mother married my first step dad Art. Again, he is another story. At one time we lived in a motor hotel somewhere in California or Nevada, I can’t remember. It was during this time that we went into town one evening and walked around looking at the Christmas lights. We passed a music store and I was watching this guy play Christmas music on an electric organ. We went in and I got a chance to sit down and peck at the keys. Within a few minutes I had picked out the tune to Silent Night. Mom thought I was a natural talent and later on we got an organ and I took a few lessons. I even wrote a song, music notes and all, all by myself. I remember I had an organ that sat in a corner and Jeff was in a baby walker and kept running into it scratching the legs. Art nailed some 2X4s to the floor creating a boundary so Jeff couldn’t get past it. It worked for a while until he got smart enough to pick up the walker and go over them.

We moved to California and my brother was born the summer I turned eight. Mom was doing waitress work and Art did just about anything to make a living. Art brought me a bicycle home one day and it was in a sad state. He said we would fix it up and paint it together. We worked on it for days and put new tires on it and finally got it painted. It was a boy’s bike and I was barely tall enough to straddle the bar but rode it everyday. I was finally making a few friends in the neighbourhood but was realising I was different and most of the other kids teased me which made me withdraw even more.

My brother Jeff was home from the hospital by this time. I remember the day they brought him home. Having been