“Freedom, Family, and the Fire Within”

As we celebrate the 4th of July, I can’t help but feel the layered beauty of what this week means—not just for our country, but for the people who light up our little world at Mylo.

Independence Day often brings fireworks, parades, hot dogs, and ballgames—and I love all of that. But at its core, it’s about the courage to start something bold. To build something meaningful. To do life with intention, with love, with people who matter.

That’s why this issue celebrates not just the birth of a nation, but the birth of one of the kindest, fiercest people I know—my sister, Tammie. She was born on the 4th of July, and honestly, it tracks. She's steady, loyal, quietly strong, and the kind of person who makes every team, every family, every business, better. This magazine wouldn’t be the same without her. I wouldn’t be the same without her.

You’ll also find stories this week about sisterhood, childhood games in the pasture, powerful partnerships like Cotopaxi (a brand we’re proud to stand beside), and even a quick rewind on the real reason we shoot off fireworks in the first place.

So whether you’re flipping burgers, watching the sunset, or just taking a breath with the people you love—remember what it’s really all about: the freedom to be yourself, the grace to grow, and the gift of being surrounded by good souls.

Here’s to independence. Here’s to Tams. Here’s to all of us.

With love and spark,
Angie

Born to Shine: Celebrating Tams on the 4th of July

Every 4th of July, fireworks light up the sky—and my heart lights up right alongside them. Because it’s Tammie’s day. My sister, my co-worker, my catcher, my compass. She was born on Independence Day, and it just makes sense.

She probably wishes I’d keep this short—maybe not even write anything at all. That’s Tams: humble, modest, never wanting a spotlight. But I’ve made it a tradition here at Mylo Mag to write about the people who shape our world, and if anyone deserves their moment, it’s her.

Humble Beginnings, Lifelong Bond

Standing outside our farm house in Burt County: Cherie, Me, Pop (our Grandfather William J. Sass), Tammie, Johnnie - all looking suave.

As the youngest of four, I looked up to all my siblings, but being just three years younger than Tams made her my constant. We shared a double bed for years—me, the blanket-stealing bed-hog kicker, and her, the tolerant big sister (most of the time). She stuck up for me, guided me, loved me, and when needed, put me in my place—with one look or a solid big-sister-style smack.

And she’s always been that way—gentle, protective, and powerful. I still remember being just a kid at the Burt County Fair, when some punk slammed my face into a water fountain. Tam didn’t hesitate—she formed a fist and knocked that kid flat. Mama bear mode: activated. My brother Johnnie is eight years older, and Cherie—our angel—is ten years older. Growing up as the baby meant I had an incredible lineup of siblings to look up to. But Tammie was the one I followed everywhere.

We did it all together—everything. 4-H shows with our hogs, sheep, and cattle. Cleaning barns and stalls side by side. Running errands, doing chores, helping Mom and Johnnie without question. We played in the chicken coop, made mud pies in the grove, and spent hours at Pop and Gram’s, baking with Grandma Jack (who was blind), learning, laughing, and just being.

We walked that mile to Nolana School—our little one-room schoolhouse on gravel roads, where Tams had one classmate and I had three. Those early years were simple and sacred. They shaped who we are.

She was my protector, my teammate, and my idol—and honestly, she still is.

Always True to Her Heart and Full of Grit

Ron & Tam with Mom and Dad in Minnesota a few years back.

From the Ball Field to the Trade Show

We grew up playing every sport we could—volleyball, basketball, track—but softball was our jam. Tam thrived behind the plate as my catcher, and I threw with everything I had knowing she’d read the batter and throw out runners without blinking. We were a sister duo no one wanted to face.

And though we don’t have the pictures to prove it, I promise—we were badass. Well… except for that one time I casually drilled a warm-up pitch straight into her face. Broke her nose. Totally my fault even though she said she should have been looking. (Still cringe thinking about screaming her name and she turned just as the strike slammed her maskless face) Then there was the time I attempted to heroically slide into home—broke my fibula—and Tams just gave me that classic big sister look like, “Seriously? Now I have to pitch?” She thought it was a sprain and I was being a pussy. So she kinda felt bad the next day when I had to get a cast. While I sat on the bench with a little ice bag on my leg while it was propped up on my glove, I cheered and coached her and the rest of the team on even though she was somewhat annoyed that I wasn’t on the mound.

And when I came hobbling back with a walking cast, ready to throw again? There she was, crouched behind the plate like nothing happened. Catching me like old times. That’s Tams—loyal, low-maintenance, and tougher than anyone on the field.

Working, Growing, and Living Together (aka Sister Act: The Remix)

Our first job together? The Valmont Industries era of the 1980s—think big perms, bigger shoulder pads, and all three sisters reporting for duty in different departments. Cherie rocked the Irrigation Department, Tammie ruled Lighting & Poles, and I was sweating it out in Tubing. We shared rides, lunch breaks, and a whole lot of caffeine. It wasn’t a family business, but somehow it felt like one. And looking back, those years were golden.

Fast-forward a few decades (and a few hairstyles), after life took all its twists and turns, the universe handed us a full-circle moment in 2017 when Tammie came to work with Cola and me at Soul & Swag (now MYLO Brand Studio.) She had already jumped in during our promo business phase in 2012, but when we went all-in with this new chapter, Tams said yes again.

And thank God she did.

Because her empathy? It settles people.
Her positivity? It lifts rooms.
Her faith? It carries all of us when we need it most.
Her responsibility? It anchors the chaos.

She is the soul of our business.

Let me tell you—this woman was built for this gig. People adore her. Our crew counts on her. And me? I get a front row seat to watch her carry herself with that rare combo of kindness, calm, and just the right amount of sass to make everything better.

She's the kind of teammate who keeps things running while you’re spinning out. The type who shows up early, stays late, and always—always—has a Scotcheroo tucked in her bag. I mean, come on. That’s elite-level energy.

And when I find myself stuck in a conversation that’s headed nowhere fast? I just quietly fade out (classic Irish exit) and leave them with Tammie. She’ll make them feel like they’re the most interesting person in the room. She’s got a gift. I’ve always said having Tams around is like having Jesus with a clipboard and a label printer—graceful, organized, and able to talk to absolutely anyone.

Working with your sister could be chaos. But with Tams, it’s a blessing. She fills the gaps, smooths the chaos, and brings her whole self to every room she enters. And thank God for that—because I can’t imagine doing any of this without her.

From Logan View to Life Partners

Tams proudly walked across the stage with the unforgettable Logan View High School Class of 1980—a crew packed with heart, humor, and a loyalty that’s still going strong. That class? Legends. They weren’t just classmates—they were leaders, pranksters, protectors, and the kind of people who knew how to have fun and your back. To this day, they still gather, still laugh like teenagers, and still love each other like family. That kind of bond doesn’t fade—it just gets better with time.

And through it all—those high school halls, ball games, epic dances, and the lead-up to adulthood—there was Tams. Strong, steady, low-key hilarious, and never one to seek the spotlight. She had a magnetic calm about her, even then.

Fast-forward to 1984, when I got the honor of being her Maid of Honor. A moment that should’ve been glamorous... but instead, featured me in a light pink ruffled number that hugged all the wrong places, showed off my college freshman 15, and sat atop a pale complexion and a too-tight perm. We thought we were serving looks. We were, in fact, not. But man, did we love every minute of it.

We’ve been through the big stuff and the brutal stuff together—celebrations, heartbreaks, grief, grace, and everything in between.

Love, Loss, and the Strength of Spirit

In 2011, Tammie faced one of the deepest heartbreaks of her life—the sudden loss of her best friend, Linda Baumert, in a tragic car accident. It was the kind of loss that knocks the wind out of your soul. Linda wasn’t just a friend—she was family, laughter, history, and home all wrapped into one. The world tilted for Tams that day, and nothing would ever be quite the same.

But in true Tammie fashion, she chose grace over bitterness. In the midst of grief, she leaned into faith, wrapped her arms around Linda’s family, and kept her memory alive—not with sorrow, but with joy. She didn’t just mourn Linda; she carried her forward. In conversations. In quiet moments. In all the little ways she honors the ones who shaped her.

That’s Tammie. When life delivers the unthinkable, she doesn’t break—she bends toward the light. She finds meaning in the pain. She chooses love over despair. And somehow, she reminds the rest of us that even in loss, there is beauty. There is connection. There is something sacred in remembering.

Tams one one of her birthdays surrounded by her four grandaughters!

Long Live Gram Tams

If you know Tammie, then you know her proudest title isn’t employee, teammate, sister, or even catcher—it’s Grandma. Or, as her crew lovingly calls her: Gram Tams.

And let me tell you, she wears that title like a crown (a low-key, humble crown—but a crown nonetheless). With four granddaughters and two grandsons, she’s the heartbeat of their childhoods, their safe place, and their biggest fan. Whether it’s cheering from the bleachers, tying shoes on the sidelines, or quietly praying for them before bed, she’s there—always showing up, always sacrificing, always loving with her whole heart.

She’s not just present—she’s immersed. She fishes with them. She takes them on boat rides with Captain Ron at the helm—her husband of 41 years, and her partner in both love and lake adventures. Together, they’ve built a life of memories: Minnesota cabin trips, nights by the water, and lazy mornings filled with pancakes, puzzles, and pure joy.

Gram Tams doesn’t just babysit—she curates magical childhood moments. Her house? It’s got the ultimate sleepover room. A space that says, “Stay as long as you like, and don’t bother folding the blankets.” Whether it’s a quick visit or a full-weekend takeover, the grandkids know one thing for sure: Gram Tams is ready for action. And also for chill time. She’s mastered both.

She’s raising them—not just with hugs and cookies (though those are guaranteed)—but with values, laughter, and steady love. These grandkids are growing into remarkable humans, and you can trace that right back to the woman who’s been pouring into them from day one.

If legacy is measured in love, then Tammie’s already rich beyond words.

Happy 63 Tams!

I still love sharing a hotel room with you in Vegas—even if we finally graduated to separate beds and no longer fight over who gets the outlet closest to the mirror. I still follow your lead more than you know. I still see you as my big sister—even if, let’s be honest, I’ve probably aged a little harder in spirit (and forehead wrinkles).

I don’t know where I’d be without you. And frankly, I have zero interest in finding out.

So today, I celebrate the girl who walked those hilly gravel roads of District 57 with me. Who showed pigs, scrubbed stalls, caught fastballs, and caught me when life got heavy. I celebrate the girl who makes the best homemade ice cream and still somehow thinks it’s “no big deal.” The same girl who would punch a bully for me one minute and offer him a Scotcheroo the next. The one who laughs quietly, prays deeply, and loves like it’s her full-time job.

She’s the kind voice in the chaos. The steady anchor when the current gets rough. The woman who’s taught me more about grace, strength, and perfectly timed one-liners than any book ever could.

Sure, I might be her “boss” on paper—but let’s be real: she’s been teaching me how to live, love, and show up for people since I was stealing her blankets in that shared double bed.

So here’s to you, Tams.
You are one in a million.
You are our rock, our soft place, our comic relief, and our moral compass.

Happy 63rd to the most loyal, loving, quietly badass woman I know. I love you more than words, more than Vegas buffet crab legs, and more than every perfectly scooped ball of your homemade ice cream.

We’ll keep walking forward—honoring Cherie with every step—knowing she’s laughing right along with us.

Forever your little (technically bigger, still younger) sister,
Ang

The OG Firecracker