Sunday, August 2, 2020
Some Thoughts from Ruth’s Daughters
Ruth, not Ruthie, was our mother and so much more.
Before she was a mother to us, she was a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, a niece, a cousin, a friend, a wife, a sister-in-law, an aunt, and later a grandmother to more than just her immediate grandchildren.
The stories, pictures, cards and letters she shared over the years provided insight into the depth of the relationships she cherished with family and friends. As the oldest daughter in a family of ten, she grew up fast and was a critical part of maintaining an extremely busy household. And as her siblings grew and became more self sufficient, she moved out of her parents’ very full house to take care of relatives who needed assistance in their aging years.
Her stories reflected how much value she placed on this time in her life – she never complained about the volume of work, instead, she shared funny stories about the things that happened and the people she knew while the work was getting done. And a common theme was that ‘everyone got along’. It was very important to Mom that ‘everyone got along’. And growing up in a large family– it was especially important. And it was an important value she exemplified. The most difficult circumstances were always made easier if ‘everyone got along.’ Ruth never made a situation worse, only better.
When we ‘met’ Mom, she was very busy trying to mould us into respectable and responsible human beings, the same way her parents and the elders in her family did with her. She taught us the importance of independence and self-sufficiency, and of priorities - “do the things you have to do before you do the things you want to do”. There are early memories of sitting at the kitchen table under her watchful eye helping us with our homework, which was done before we went out to play. From a young age, we each had our own alarm clock, so we were responsible to get ourselves up for school. Everything she taught us, and lead through example, was intended to teach us to be self sufficient in our lives.
She valued education and was very proud of us and her grandchildren graduating high school and going on to further education. Report cards were reviewed very carefully and Mom held us accountable to her expectations of us…… and they were high expectations. Her mother was a teacher, and Mom took our performance in school very seriously. She was also very proud of our successes, no matter how big or small and always praised the results.
She gave us the freedom to explore our world by letting us go with Dad to his shed at the shore. To this day, I honestly don't know how we survived. Many of our shoreline adventures ended with Dad instructing us “don’t tell your Mother”. Mom had no idea what to expect when we came home – like the day we came back covered in paint as we had been busy adding more color to Dad’s punt, Patches. Our painting adventures usually happened on a Saturday, so extra scrubbing was needed that night to be ready for mandatory Sunday School the next morning.
Ruth was strong and resilient. She unexpectedly lost her mother, her husband, and her father in the span of six months. As awful as it was, and it was awful, she never faltered, she stood solid, and she anchored her family when the world was spinning around us….and we got through….and everyone got along.
Ruth was a “fixer”, and often times ‘fixing’ was required to ensure that ‘everyone got along’. Mom could fix something for supper when surprise guests arrived, and the cupboards were bare. She fixed cold hands and feet with home knit mittens and socks, and she fixed upsets with a calming cup of tea and a cookie or sweet bread. She fixed our injuries and dirty faces with her special “mother booboo remover”…….spit……. but it didn’t work on Iris’ first tattoo…..or the second one…..
She fixed her hairstyle to enhance the natural redness of it, as you couldn’t ‘buy that color in a bottle’!
After Preston’s wife, and Mom’s dear friend, Perla, passed away, Mom fixed Preston’s grieving heart with a tin of cookies; he later married her.
Mom also loved plants and there wasn’t an African violet or Christmas cactus that refused to bloom for her, and the amaryllis, and the gladiolas, and the dahlias. The Christmas cactus’ in our house were grown from slips she got from her mother which came from slips she got from her mother….. so theoretically, the cactus was the oldest member of the family… except for maybe our Great Great Uncle Willy who came to live with us when he was in his early nineties…. It would be the second time she would care for him in their lives…..
And Mom loved birds… a turkey in the oven or a hummingbird or cardinal on the feeder brought her equal joy. Her yard was a must-stop place for many birding groups visiting Grand Manan as rare birds always stopped by for a visit.
At Christmas, her ‘no onion’ dressing was so good, and those who loved it might be surprised to know that it was full of onion chopped so small they didn’t know it was there. Mom firmly believed there was no such thing as ‘too much onion’.
Mom also loved her road trips, either around the island or around the Maritimes and sometimes further. Her love for travel and trips started as a young woman when she travelled to New York by herself to visit one of her beloved uncles. Although, she never had a driver’s licence, she never turned down a chance to ‘go for a drive’ often with Maxine or with Preston when he would suggest they go on the next boat to the cottage at Beulah Camp.
During their Beulah time, they enjoyed attending church services, and times of Christian fellowship with fellow campers, watching the boats go up and down the river and sitting on the deck waving and visiting with those who walked by.
Even when mom’s memory faltered, her wit was quick. After her hip surgery, she asked me why she couldn't remember anything. When I told her “the Dr. fried your brain" she looked at me and said “I wish he had boiled it instead".
Mom also enjoyed reading and puzzles. And knitting home made socks – she got such joy from creating warm socks for those she loved. Only Ava knows how many she knit as mom relied on her to finish each toe with the elusive Kitchener stitch.
Mom, it’s time to cast off – slip one, knit one, pass the slip stich over….. put the needles down.
