Chili and Frank Mills

Whoever heard of a progressive dinner focused on chili? Saturday night we ate chili in many forms as we paraded around Capitol Hill.

There were 35 of us who gathered first at a row house behind the Marine Barracks, where we had spicy salsas with chips and margaritas, followed by salad topped with turkey chili, white corn, and any number of other toppings. A great start to the evening.

Then we walked 8 blocks to another row house, this time on A Street SE, where we had the main course of veggie chili and jailhouse chili with two wonderful corn bread choices. It was the home of two architects, so the space was as enticing as the chili.

Dessert was another 4 blocks, ending up on 8th Street NE. It was fresh fruit with tiny jalapeno slices and the best dark chocolate flan I have ever tasted. It was the subtle flavors that made the chocolate dessert so special. I managed to find the recipe thanks to Google.

As we polished off our flan, I happened to mention that we had recently seen Hair in Central Park. At that point the woman sitting next to me, who is recovering from yet another bout with cancer but has the most optimistic approach to life you could ever imagine, launched into Frank Mills. Suddenly a handsome 6'6" gay man joined in and with David’s and my help we managed to get to the end of the song with most of the words. This sudden outburst of song was as special as the various chilis of the evening.

I was thinking a little more about Frank Mills’ disappearance and how much harder that would be today. With Google and PeopleFinder and Facebook, it’s rather hard to just drop out of sight for long. It’s a sure thing Frank would probably be in debt by more than $2 today!


Frank Mills

I met a boy called Frank Mills
On September twelfth right here
In front of the Waverly
But unfortunately
I lost his address

He was last seen with his friend,A drummer, he resembles George Harrison of the Beatles
But he wears his hair
Tied in a small bow at the back

I love him but it embarrasses me
To walk down the street with him
He lives in Brooklyn somewhere
And wears this white crash helmet

He has gold chains on his leather jacket
And on the back is written the names
Mary
And Mom
And Hell's Angels

I would gratefullyAppreciate it if you see him tell him
I'm in the park with my girlfriend
And please

Tell him Angela and I
Don't want the two dollars back
Just him!