My mother Millicent Roberts, known by everyone as "Milla" c1979
Saarinen House studio.
Milla
Women have always played an important part in my life. Of course, I must start with my mother; known to everyone as ‘Milla’. I wrote earlier in “Childhood” about my mother being widowed, when I was two and a half years old; and the days of the Blitz. She remarried and, with my step father, supported me through my college days; I lived at home. In the Army, serving in the Far East, her constant correspondence meant a lot to me; as ever she was supportive and loving. Her love was not coddling or cloying; she wanted to be my friend and, indeed, she was. I was fortunate that I could have her come visit me in the USA, starting in the early 70’s. Again a widow, she did visit regularly, spending months with me in Washington DC and, later, Michigan; Milla, was part of my life at the Corcoran and Cranbrook. She befriended artists, curators, journalists, staff, students, patrons and trustees; she was a beautiful woman in every way. My mother was well read, spoke a little French, had beautiful handwriting, would talk easily and listen well. With her sense of humor, curly white hair and smiling blue eyes, Milla was beloved.
My mother had never had a life like she had with me in America. Milla came with me to parties, receptions, gallery openings and events; many a tale can be told. At one formal function in Washington DC, we were at a dinner; me in a tux, my mother stately in black. Making conversation, a lady asked my mother what was my favorite dessert. Smiling demurely, my mother responded, loud enough for the table to hear, “Roy loves Spotted Dick”. Well that was a conversation stopper; particularly as she added, in the silence, “And he likes his Spotted Dick with treacle on it.”! Hastily, I had to explain that Spotted Dick is sponge pudding with raisins, a traditional English dessert. Everyone sighed a breath of relief; my mother smiled, blissfully unaware of what she had said.
Of course, more occurred at Cranbrook, where mother lived at Saarinen House. She had her own room with back stairs giving easy access to the kitchen; that is where she spent most of her time. The kettle was always on, the tea pot full, with cookies for her visitors; she loved to chat and everyone loved to listen to her lilting Welsh accent. On one occasion, I came into the kitchen to find her chatting with a famed artist; discussing the problems, as a widow, of bringing up an only child. The artist was our dear friend, Yoko Ono.
Many artists and writers came to the Academy; even ambassadors and royalty. My mother was present when I received my knighthood “Order of the White Rose of Finland, Knight First Class” from the Finnish Counsel. Probably, my mother was the only person, other than myself, who truly appreciated the knighthood. No one else seemed to understand; free tickets to a baseball game may have caused more excitement to my colleagues at the Academy. Mother and I were proud of my knighthood; even more so when I was honored again. This time by Sweden; I was awarded my second knighthood, “The Order of the Polar Star”. Later, King Carl Gustav and Queen Sofia of Sweden visited Cranbrook; my mother was thrilled.
After her death, I came across a small book of poems and writings. Included was a description of the royal visit in which my mother wrote, in her firm hand, “Their Majesties were invited to Cranbrook to celebrate the reinstallation of the Orpheus Fountain by Carl Milles, the well known Swedish sculptor.” She goes on to describe the preparations, arrival and ceremony. Milla continues, “Several guests came to Saarinen House at 3.45. Then the King and Queen arrived with the lady-in-waiting and entourage. They went upstairs to freshen up and then came down to meet the guests. Roy introduced me to them and we shook hands. We were told not to courtesy or bow, only to say ‘Your Majesty’. They said they were pleased to be here and I said it was an honor. They mingled with the guests…..As they were leaving, Roy and I stood outside and we shook hands again. I didn’t want to wash my hand after that. It was a wonderful experience.” She concluded, “Now, we must get down to earth again”. How true for my mother was the most down to earth person that you could ever meet. Her favorite event at Cranbrook was the annual Guy Fawkes Ball, particularly the huge bonfires. Milla dressed formally for the occasion, pearls and all; she dined, wined and danced.
Mother spent more time and more time with me; she also visited relatives in Canada. Eventually, she left her flat (apartment) in Wales; returning annually to visit her younger half sister. In 1991, she died in a Nursing Home on Woodward Avenue, across from Cranbrook. I was by her side, so was my wife Agnes and her mother, a dear friend to Milla. These two elderly ladies, one from Scotland and the other from Wales, were short, plump and grey; almost impossible to tell apart. One day, Agnes and I saw them walking down the street towards us; from a distance, our mothers looked the same as they walked and talked. My mother died at the age of 84; a memorial service was held at Christ Church Cranbrook. The church was overflowing with her friends, faculty, families, staff and students; evidence of the real love felt for Milla.
At the service, I read the following, again written in my mothers clear handwriting. My reading brought tears to us all, as does typing this touching text. To this day, I am not sure whether she copied this or if the words are hers, the distinctive penmanship clearly is.
“Death is nothing at all. I have only slipped away to the next room. I am I and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, that we still are. Call me by my old familiar name; speak to me in the easy way you always used. Put no difference in your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effect, without the ghost of a shadow on it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolutely unbroken continuity. What is death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am waiting for you for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.”
Matriachs & Monarchs
Other than my mother, the two great influences from my early life were Queen Elizabeth the First and Queen Victoria. My grandfather, born in the Victorian Era, brought me up to admire Victoria Regina and the times of the Raj. Both monarchs ruled at the most dominant and bloody times in British history. I will not bore the reader with that history; suffice to say that the British Empire came into being because of these matriarchal monarchs. Indeed, I was brought up in a matriarchal society; the men worked, brought home their pay packet and were given beer money. The wives and women ruled the household as they ruled the land. During the war, the Queen Mother stayed in London with the King; they comforted the survivors of the Blitz and, indeed, strengthened us all. (As they both got older, my mother looked more and more like the Queen Mother, elderly and elegant.) In 1953, the coronation of Queen Elizabeth the Second was hailed as the “Second Elizabethan Era”; Edmund Hillary had conquered Mount Everest and, later, the Beatles reined supreme, as did the Queen. Unfortunately, conservative capitalists and staunch socialists clashed and the country suffered, going into decline. In 1967, I left for America, the land of opportunity.