“I’m bummed about next weekend,” was truth stated to fellow A Stronger Cord stalwarts. We’re excited to begin a partnership with Bessie’s Hope and love on the elderly. Too many are isolated in our land today.
Anyway, your knucklehead scribe and other ASC folks were talking about our first gathering with the wonderful non profit that has been loving on the elderly, and at-risk kids, for more than two decades. We’re jacked up to help. But, this old jock was gonna miss it while attending a celebration to the life of Ruth Perry. As we chatted, more than one said, “Tell us about Ruth.” I eagerly obliged.
Here’s what they heard about a wonderful mentor, born in 1912. The year the Titanic sank. The dynamo navigated sometimes turbulent waters with gusto till, a few weeks shy, of 105. Yep. She sailed long with distinguished service. I know for certain the school teacher inspired my love for words, writing and sports. I spent a lot of early childhood visiting the Charles (my grandpa on mom side) Perry family farm just outside of Baldwin City, Kansas. Home to Baker University, the Kansas rural community is about 15 miles south of bigger Lawrence and the well-known University of Kansas, its collegiate basketball prowess, fun vibe and decent county jail. The latter, a story for another time. She’d always called me, “Mark David.” We made tons of chocolate chip batter and cookies in her kitchen. I ate a lot of each.
Along with daughters (my aunts) Sally and MaryLou, we had many evening Scrabble games. Usually after catching “Lightning Bees” with uncle Charlie in the yard at sundown. During formative childhood years, I was lucky to marinate there. It positively impacted life. I know devotion to writing stuff like this weekly rambling was nurtured there. Through playing endless hours of Scrabble with loved ones, I fell in love with words and writing. Ruth, thanks.
Long ago during summers, Ruth, as an educator would travel the short distance north to KU for continuing-education classes. Sometimes with a young freckled-faced lad who loved sports. While busy learning, stepgrandmom (McIntosh kids called her “Aunt Ruth”) would drop a buck-toothed kid at the university’s football stadium. A southpaw would run, throw, catch and kick while visualizing touchdowns and pick sixes. Just a kid with blossoming athletic dreams fostered on the turf inside Memorial Stadium. Ruth, thanks again.
Facebook is great when it comes to connecting. There, a beloved fellow Mizzou School of Journalism graduate beautifully responded to something I had written about Ruth: “Sorry for your loss, Mark, but what a lovely tribute. How awesome that you can trace your love of words to her influence. That's a wonderful legacy.”
What kind of legacy are we gonna leave? Whether we sail past a century like Ruth or sink tomorrow? I think of this special spirit - still played Scrabble and Crib to the end! - and think of three things. She was amazing at learning, loving and living. Ruth, job well done. We would be wise to sail with a similar spirit. It’s unsinkable.
1 comment:
She was an incredible grandmother to my children! I loved her dearly and saw her as a grandmother to me as well!
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