Ruth Wood turns 101 today.
A small woman with snow-white curls and fierce, intelligent blue-green eyes, Ruth lives at Greystone Assisted Living with her spirited rescue cat, Izzy.
Ruth was born into a farm family in rural Elsmore, where she attended school, walking mile after dusty mile to make it to classes on time each day. I believe shes the last member of her class still living, risked her son, Gary, a genial man of 77, who sat visiting with his mother last Thursday.
Ruth, along with her husband Paul, raised four children on a small farm outside Moran. She worked for many years as a cook at a local nursing home, but her most exacting labor was back home tending livestock, managing the garden, canning food. And then of course she had to look after three ornery kids and me, said Gary.
Paul and Ruth were married for more than 60 years. Paul died in 2003. He was 87. A picture of the couple in their early 20s hangs on Ruths wall at Greystone. Theyre smiling, looking into the camera, Ruth leans close to Paul.
A farmers life is never easy, and the Woods hit hard times in the 1950s. Paul had to look for extra work to hold the family farm together. Of course, when youre a kid, recalled Gary, you dont realize all the turmoil that faces your folks until later. My sisters have said several times, We must have been poorer than we thought we were. But Ruth never let them know it. She never allowed her kids to feel poor, to feel less-than. We all just put our noses to the grindstone, and, well, eventually, life got better.
Recognizing that its impossible to ever adequately summarize a life in a phrase, Gary, presented with that challenge exactly, thought for a moment. Oh, he said, shes just a good Christian mother, who taught us a lot of good values. And, all our life, weve tried to keep them.
Garys wife of 50 years, Froncie, is steadfast in her love for Mrs. Wood, too. Shes the best mother-in-law anybody could ever have. She is always kind, said Froncie. Shes there to give you advice but she doesnt interfere. When I was working, every gal in the office wanted to trade me mother-in-laws. You couldnt have a better one.
And she showed you how to dress chickens, too, Gary reminded her.
Yes, Froncie said. We used to have chickens. She came over one day to help me dress them. She dressed about three to my one. Ruth would stand on their necks and pull their heads off, then once they were done flopping about shed dunk them in scalding water and pluck the feathers. Shed done this since she was a little girl. Then shed cut them up, removing the innards as she went. Shed go out and get a chicken in the morning and dress it and have it on the table for dinner.
She was an excellent cook, remembered Gary, everything she made.
But what was her very best dish? I asked.
Gary smiled. Of course. Fried chicken.
ON THAT SUNNY early afternoon, as Gary and Froncie recalled their favorite memories of Mrs. Wood, the 100-year-old remained largely quiet. She watched from her recliner. She listened. After 20 minutes of chat, I asked Mrs. Wood if I could take her picture. She consented. I then told her that we were going to run her picture in the paper, for her birthday. A wry smile spread across her face and she leaned forward in her chair, as if to disclose a secret. Well, she said, Im afraid that might lose the Register some customers.
