John Mills holds in his hands the magic to fix pianos and organs that represent a moment in time, bound to one's soul, restoring them to a point that reflects ...
The broken will be made whole through the skillful hands of John or one of his descendants. “We were able to fix most of its problem, and we got down to a chip that was not available," he said. "The people that did services for them also went out of business. "Not just pianos, organs, digital pianos, or pipe organs, but you look at the things we do, in our culture. “They tried to hire the people that sold it to them, but they went out of business," he said. The brothers' business slowly became one of Indiana's premiere spots for piano restorations. And so, the chips aren’t available,” Mills said. That old farmhouse became the piano repair shop. Elizabeth Hospital on the north end of town — hence the name “Northside Music Co.” When it comes to those once-in-a-lifetime pianos, Mills understands the responsibility of handling delicate items. He even roped his brother, Dick Mills, into working at the shop. The Mills' business offers 600 pianos for sale.
Lamar Hunt called 1971 team “the best we've ever had in Kansas City”
The Chiefs had never played a home playoff game at Municipal and would not host one again in Kansas City until 1991. "It was one of the three or four most memorable games I've been involved in. The Dolphins had lost in the playoffs the previous year and went on to lose in the Super Bowl to Dallas after the win in Kansas City. He said of that team: "1971 was the best team we've ever had in Kansas City," but ever the promoter of his beloved AFL, he recognized that the game's outcome also signaled "the emergence of the [Miami] Dolphins as a great team." The team was well respected that year having appeared and won two Monday Night contests when those games reigned as television's most watched programming. The defense was tops as was the kicking game with place kicker Jan Stenerud and punter Jerrel Wilson.
At the finale of the Christmas show last year in Eugene, OR, I came out as a skid-row Santa, complete with rubber nose, plastic sack full of beer cans, ...
His bus was laid up for a couple of hours: “I think they’re getting the Greyhound spayed before she gets to [California](https://hightimes.com/news/psychedelics-decriminalization-bill-introduced-by-california-lawmaker/).” At the restaurant, my mother wanted to know what I was thinking about that gave me such a goofy grin. We’d done a couple of hours in the malls, and I was shopped out. “And a quarter? Let’s get out of the rain and see what kind of medicine you’ve got sticking out of your pocket.” He wheeled around and had my wrist clamped in a bone-breaking grasp before I could finish the word. He was in the old fountain’s basin, bent in a concealing crouch at one of the potted pines. I ducked my head and kept walking in the rain. The last I saw of him, he was scurrying away, looking for a hole. I swung in and held the bucket out the window. At the finale of the Christmas show last year in Eugene, OR, I came out as a skid-row Santa, complete with rubber nose, plastic sack full of beer cans, and a pint of peppermint schnapps to fortify the holiday spirit. I also borrowed my wife Faye’s blue egg bucket and labeled it: “Homeless.” I’d jangle the cans like a bagful of aluminum sleigh bells while I worked the mainfloor aisle seats: “Hey, come on, buddy.