Dearest Ruth

This is a true story of a wonderful woman who in this modern day never did catch up; not because she couldn't but because she chose not to. She had never married but her life was full. She was my mentor and my sanctuary.

I pushed my way through the corn stalks; curiosity leading the way. From my Uncles farm I could see another house and my cousin told me it belonged to her Aunt Ruth. Ruth was my uncle’s spinster sister. My Aunt Gladys was my dad’s only sister and we visited them almost every summer. I had never met this aunt and decided in my seven years of maturity that it was about time to introduce myself. So in my Sunday best dress, I marched myself over to introduce myself. The sun was warm that July afternoon and I was full of spunk after spending a morning in church and visiting my ninety plus years grandfather. I was always the adventurous tomboy. Dirt and woods were always calling to me; just a mystery to be explored. So with pink frills and white patent leather shoes, I trekked through the rows of green and gold to find the treasure at the other end.

 

When I arrived at her gate, I was delighted to see, that her front yard was filled with geese, both big and small. I loved visiting the farms that belonged to both sides of our family, being from the outer suburbs of Detroit. I proceeded into the yard and went straight to her pen to visit with the ducklings.   Reaching down, I picked up the nearest one and held it to my chest. Imagine the shock I received when my aunt’s boxer “Queenie” came charging around the side of the house barking at the intruder.   I squeezed the duckling a little too hard, not that she wasn’t already traumatized, and she proceeded to excrete her dinner all over my pink frilly front all the way down into my shoes! The geese and ganders were squawking, the baby bite my thumb hard, the dog was digging dirt and barking, and here I was balling my eyes out when the strangest woman I ever laid eyes on came around the corner. 

 

Ruth was wearing a long brown dress and a dingy white apron with a bib. She had on a brown bonnet tied under her chin and was carrying a basket full of eggs. In her other hand she had a walking stick and used it quite effectively to come to my rescue. Taking me by the hand she escorted me into her home through the back door. At the big kitchen sink she pumped water from a hand pump and filled the sink with water and soap. I removed my soiled dress and she gave me a shirt to wear. She used a old wooden wash board to clean my dress and socks then took those out back to dry on the line. When she came back she made us some tea and we sat at her kitchen table to complete our introduction. Everywhere I looked there were things I had never seen before. She had homemade bread on the counter, onions and potato’s hanging in baskets beside wire baskets filled with all kinds of eggs. There were brown ones and white ones, speckled ones, big and small ones. There was a big wooden churn, which I soon learned was for making butter and cream. There were dollies and trivets and hand made fly swatters. She had an overhead wooden blade fan rotating slowly churning smells that my young nose couldn’t begin to identify. She had jars of pickles and jars of jellies. Her linoleum was in a checkerboard pattern and she had the prettiest lace curtains over her sink. We sat and talked for awhile and then she went to call my aunt and uncle to let them know where I was. That was the beginning of a most memorable friendship that over years never wavered.

 

Ruth had worked in the post office until she retired. She raised her own chickens and guineas and made her own breads. She traded these with other ladies for jellies and fruits and it gave her a chance to visit when the mood stuck her to. She had a large barn and a corn silo in the back. She stuffed pillows and quilts with goose down and she crocheted the dollies that adorned her tables. The only modern contraptions she finally allowed in her house were an indoor privy and the telephone, both non-negotiable items that my uncle had installed.

 

Over the years I would sit in her kitchen and tell her stories about the city. I would talk to her about boy problems, drugs in the schools, deaths of friends, and she would just sit and listen to me. She would ask me how those things made me feel and she would hold my hand if I cried. She taught me how to gather eggs, to skin and peel the hair off the corn, to churn the butter and how to have a good time without the aid of a television. Most of all she taught me how to find peace in a very hectic world.

 

When I grew up and had my own farm and children I would send her pictures and letters. She was such an inspiration in my life. One day my Aunt Gladys called to tell me that Aunt Ruth had passed. She told me that when she was cleaning out Aunt Ruth’s house, she found all of my letters and pictures I had sent her tied up in a ribbon in an old shoe box. 

 

I will miss her always but she is still my rock in a crazy world. When it becomes too rough, I close my eyes and picture the woman in the brown dress and bonnet who was my mentor, my analyst and my best friend.

 

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Oh we should all have a person in our lives like your Ruth! (I did, but this isn't about me)

As a Brit, I just loved the atmosphere and feel of this story, learned wonderful things I didn't really know aboutl: 'There was a big wooden churn, which I soon learned was for making butter and cream. There were dollies and trivets and hand made fly swatters. She had an overhead wooden blade fan rotating slowly churning smells that my young nose couldn't begin to identify. She had jars of pickles and jars of jellies. Her linoleum was in a checkerboard pattern and she had the prettiest lace curtains over her sink.' (You really brought the room to life!)

There's so much more I could add, but, will just congratulate you on telling the tale of Ruth and what you learned from her.

Thank you for sharing and good luck with the contest!

[SR Urie]

Hi Miss Lena.
What a great person to associate your roots with, to call a friend and mentor and an aunt. Ruth sure has made her way into my heart with her doilees and her geese and her washboard, all the farm implements that I never had the pleasure to actually use hands on. I had a similar relative who inspired me, an old codging man whom I was proud to call my Uncle Francis who showed me the mysteries of the golf course and Washington DC. I really enjoyed your story and meeting your Aunt Ruth. Good job, my dear. Keep it up and write more about people who inspired you or amused you. You certainly write Very well. BZ

[Anita B Jacques]

Memory lane, we all have stories like yours. I love your story, fun and easy to follow. Your Sunday's best, I always managed to stain mine. My favorite was spending vacation time at my grandmother's, I had no shore to do, only fun time with cousins and friends. Thank you for sharing your wonderful story. God Bless

[Lyndie Bolt aka JustRac..]

I think the part where you are trying to explain the (non-blood) relationship to you that Ruth has can be confusing. I know from your intro that it is a true story, so you may be able to simplify this by saying that this woman is your aunt once removed.

-Is the baby she picks up a duck or a goose? If it is a baby goose it is a gosling. I know grabbing these babies, unless you managed to corner one can be a chase. I'd thing as a tomboy you would have been up for chasing them!

-my aunt's boxer "Queenie" at this point of the story, do we know the name of the dog is Queenie? I am ssuming it is Ruth's dog?

-bite my thumb should be BIT my thumb. I will bet your mom was ticked off with bird poo on your dress. It can stain like just about NOTHING else can!

What did Ruth say to the dog or you when she came to your rescue- I am also surprised that the geese didn't chase you as they (and turkies) are fabulous watch animals!

-in this phrase "When it becomes" would sound better as "When life becomes"

Did Ruth have a fridge, or did she have an ice house. Also was the stove electric or wood? Including a short part that could cover these things would give the reader a better understanding as to all skills she has to impart to you. A part of the feel is that she has almost embrased an Amish life style. Also being from Michigan, I know that there are very small enclaves of Amish around the state.

The tender feeling you have for Ruth come across quite well! A good overall write!

[Linda Stinson]

Oh me, oh my, that sent me down memory lane. You know things like this does not exist any more. I can remember as a child walking these same steps. You know, churning the milk, gathering the eggs, and slopping the pigs, haying horses, oh man as I sit here, the smell even comes back to me. And who could ever forget the quilting parties and the gossip that went around the table there. You have a beautiful plain and simply story of how everyday life used to be, when you took the time to make all the things that you now buy in stores.

[Nannon]

Wow, this was really touching. I enjoyed reading it to the max. ^^

[Samuel Dickens]

What a great story! How fortunate you were, too, to have such a person in your life. So much of the old knowledge and old ways are lost now,depriving today's youth of ever knowing their "Ruth." I didn't have one, but several similar people in my life, and I shall always be thankful for them. Thank you so much for telling us about this wonderful person.

[Nancy]

Is this a true sotry? It is excellent. I could actually picture myself sitting in her kitchen. This story brings back all the memories and comforts we call home. God bless you for writing this.

[KW Pennington]

I'm curious to learn more about Ruth, her perspective, and her wisdom. But the most evocative thing for me personally in this story was the setting. I was a suburban New York kid but every summer a week or two was spent on the remnants of the old family farm with my grandmother, 15 miles outside of Grand Rapids, Michigan. Thanks for sharing your memory but thanks even more for reintroducing me to some of my own.

[Faith Jones]

Oooooooh I hope some of this is NOT autobiographical. A very vivid account of a rather traumatic beginning to a great friendship. Funny, how we remember extreme situations even from early in life. And we often even remember the accompanying thoughts we had then. Great stuff for story-telling! You have so much in your portfolio that it will take time to discover it all, but I'm going to try! Thanks for your comments and invitation!