My early memories of my Aunt Ruth are not born from experience, instead they have been formed by the telling of the early days and this is how it was. Good stories. True, I was not there, but the pictures are vivid in my mind, all the same. The most outstanding picture in my my minds eye is how they met, my Uncle Hogan and my Aunt Ruth; I've always imagined that their first meeting went something like this:
On the front steps of the hospital, Aunt Ruth descends, her dark navy cape flowing behind her. At the bottom of the steps, Uncle Hogan (for Aunt Ruth, he was her Harry) stood stock still looking up at an angel.
In truth, I have no idea of their first encounter, however there are a few things I do know as fact.The navy brought them together; she was a navy nurse and he was a sailor. That man should have had a caution tape wrapped around him where ever he went. A charmer, most certainly; he could talk the birds out of the trees and the bees out of their honey. And talk about handsome.....move over Cary Grant.
We all have our foibles and my Uncle Hogan had his, there is no denying , but Aunt Ruth loved him period, and he her. It is impossible not to lose your heart to Aunt Ruth.
The notion of a glass being half empty is lost on her because she can only see that the glass is half full.
Before she was a "Mrs.", she was Miss Ruth Murphy and her tenacious Irish blood remained. Strength and steadfast gumption has continued to carry her through life's valleys on to the mountain tops and given those all around her, reason to strive for the mountain top themselves.
In the whole of my life, I have never heard her say anything contrary about another person. She is not blind, she simply has made a habit of finding the good, no matter how small, she will capitalize on it
When I was about three, my parents, my two sisters, and myself went for a memorable visit. Staying with Aunt Ruth was plain old fun. One afternoon, we did something most Californians do not do. We went to Beverly Hills to look at the homes and apparently stalk the rich and famous. A very touristy type of activity. The highlight of the excursion is permanently imprinted on my mind, in my heart, and without question on the crown of my head. There we were in some perfect moment driving down a street with beautiful houses on either side. Of course, each of these homes lived behind gates that granted no one entrance. In a stroke of luck, Irish in origin, I am certain, this particular house we had stopped to look at, had gates that were opening and a car emerged. My Aunt Ruth, the absolute definition of calm, began jumping up and down with wild abandon, screaming in a state of excitement I had not witnessed until that day. That was not an easy feat, considering she was sitting in the car at the time. Me, well, I had the distinct privilege of sitting on her lap. With every upward "yippee", my head hit the ceiling of the car. Who can blame her exultation? Before her very eyes was Mr. Pat Boone and his wife, Shirley. There is even a photograph as proof of the happening taken in hurried confusion. I could possibly have a lingering headache from it all, but it makes me smile to think of it.
Aunt Ruth is like magic, she has always made everything fun, sweet, and a feeling of safety was wrapped around that, as well.
When I was just a bit of a thing, I discovered this toy, to me, it was the best thing ever. Aunt Ruth kept it for little people like myself when they came to visit. I fell completely in love with it. It mesmerized me. She noticed my attachment and bestowed upon me what is to this day, one of my greatest treasures. A few years ago, I wrote a couple children's books and in one of them, I was able to have a picture of that toy placed seamlessly into the story. To others, that toy is part of the book. For me, it is my way of sending an enormous "I love you" to my beloved aunt. My way of honoring her forever.
Aunt Ruth is this "one of a kind" human. She isn't like someone else you meet along the way. She is genuinely thrilled to see you when you walk in the room. Embracing you as only she can, caressing your ears with this tender vocal velvet we privileged ones know as the sound of her voice.
So many moments I could recall with joy and laughter. For now, for today, I will leave it here and look forward to the days to come, and the pleasure of adding into my treasure box all things Aunt Ruth.
