My Father's Eulogy

If you look around this church you see before you the people that loved Charles Ruark. And he loved them, daily, faithfully, for all of his life, he loved them until the end.

 I am privileged to be a part of that heritage, and honored to share some small insights into the life of this man. Husband, father, grandfather, uncle, brother, and friend. 

Although the last two years of his life were marked with great physical suffering, he journeyed on without complaining. When I once asked him how he was after a chemo session he said, “I can’t complain. I got my three squares, my chair, my bed. Life is good.” 

 Dad was funny and sarcastic. And he was quick; he always had the last laugh. That attribute has been passed on to his children and grandchildren. Spend time with any of them and you will see that reflection. He loved golf, fishing, the Bulls, the Bears, the White Sox and sharing those experiences with his family. 

 He shared many things, but not the newspaper. Sneak a peak at the comics and he knew, he knew. Some advice he offered was, “Only you can decide what you can live with. You are responsible for your choices.” Or even more bluntly, “Don’t screw up.”

 His work ethic was impeccable and no sacrifice was too great to provide for his family. Opposites attract and the love that he and my mother had will endure throughout eternity. They knew that one day the kids would have lives of their own, so they built their life together on a solid foundation. 

 We could tease mom, he would not tolerate disrespect. 

 Back in 2000 he wrote letters to his grandson, Kendric, as part of a school project. I wanted to share some excerpts from one of those notes. 

 These are his words of his early life, a life that formed him into the man that he became. When I was your age I lived with my mom and dad and three of my sisters and two brothers, the rest of my sisters and brothers had married and didn’t live at home. Remember there were were 11 children in all.

Later he wrote of the large farm about 360 acres. We had 4 horses, 12 cows, about 200 chickens…there were other animals involved. We had to feed and care for these animals every day….we would put in a very large garden and raise the largest part of our food to eat. 

He went on and described other ways that they gathered food. And then …my father died when I was 10 ½ yrs. old so we had to quit farming and get rid of all the animals except the chickens. 

 We had a very hard time trying to get food…We had no income. My sisters that were home had to go work for room and board.

 So his father died, their livelihood disappeared, the family had to disperse. When I was about 13 ys. old we were able to move to town (Momence) where my mom found a job working for a very nice man. We got to live there until I grew up and went to the Navy in 1945. 

 Although it was a hard life for me when I was young I look back and really have no regrets as I cannot remember going to bed hungry or cold and not being happy. 

 So today we remember and honor a man who had a simple life. But during that simple life he had a successful marriage for 58 years, was an exemplary employee, and raised nine children who never went to bed hungry or cold and were happy. And even in the midst of our great loss, we are still happy because we have this legacy and example before us.

Kind Acts

Once mowing the lawn begins it continues until the last leaf is mulched in the fall. Yesterday I was mowing. The front yard has a lot of shade so I was waiting for early evening before sprucing up the back. We had grilled burger and salad with my daughter and the grandkids and were enjoying our time together. After dinner I decided to finish the yard. I was going to let Russ and Elisabeth visit and relax. 

When I was about 1/3rd of the way through, Russ came out to finish for me. To be kind. Which he is. Five minutes later he ran over a charred log in the yard and blew the engine. 

Throughout the day I had noticed the wood and kept forgetting to move it to the burn pile. While mowing, I know that I would have kicked it aside.

 Russ, however, thought it was a pile of charcoal dust and plowed on through. So, today, we purchased a new mower and he's almost forgiven himself, but not quite. 

Hey, it happens. If life's too short to dance with ugly men, it's definitely too short to sorrow over dead mowing machines.

Springtime in VT

This year should be marked in the books of history as the one in which Vermonters had a spring. Usually spring here consists of waiting for mounds of snow to melt and laying down boards to walk past mud in the dooryard. 

But this year we have had warm weather, sunshine, early flowers and lots of greenery. We are probably about a month ahead of where we usually are in gardening.

 The funny thing is that is the middle of all of it, parts of Vermont can get 16 inches of snow. Then it's back to stoking up the wood furnace or twirling the dial for the propane.

 Yesterday I hung out three loads of laundry, mowed the entire the yard, weeded two large flower beds, sipped soda on the deck, and watched the grandkids chase each other with sprinklers. 

 Today, it's dropped to 50, the rain is nonstop, and I'm pulling out an insulated vest so that I don't have to turn up the heat. 

You gotta love it or you gotta move. I think I'll stay.

More Mice to Hunt

Early Monday at 3:30 a.m. we were awakened by the sound of Ogden meowing. Ogden is a very silent cat and I told him to be quiet. He waited a minute and meowed loudly again. This was soon followed by a deep growling.

 I hoped that it was just Russ settling into a snore but I had to acknowledge that it had to be Og with a mouse. I elbowed Russ, he fumbled for the light, stumbled to get his glasses, and confirmed that Ogden had indeed caught a mouse. “Good Ogden, good kitty,” he crooned. Og was encircled by the other two cats hoping that he would drop his find, thus the growling. 

Russ scooped up the vibrating cat that had the mouse hanging from his jaws and closed him up into the bathroom. We were able to fall back asleep. 

Monday night around 8 p.m. I was reading up in our sitting room when I noticed our young cat Pippin scurrying back and front by the door. It was a familiar move and I called Russ' name. She batted her paw along the door frame. I called louder. 

 The activity increased, I jumped up on the chair, shouting for help. (Did I mention I am terrified of mice?) Meanwhile I heard Russ crashing into furniture downstairs in the dark. (Did I mention that I rearrange furniture a lot?)

 Now Pippin and the mouse are running around the interior of the room, I reluctantly admit that I was whimpering words to the effect of, "Save me,” as I stood on the chair, 

Russ  careening into the room saying, “Have you hurt yourself? I think I may have broken a toe on the couch.” 

That was when Pippin chased the mouse from behind my chair and into our bedroom. All was revealed. I was helped from the chair, ordered to go downstairs and Russ closed off the room to deal with the mouse. 

Time passed. I waited downstairs and listened to furniture being moved, the scrabbling of cat feet, and Russ shouting for Pippin, “Get the stupid mouse!” Finally he bellowed, “Kathy, grab Ogden and bring him up. Pippin doesn’t know how to catch a mouse.”

 Og was sleeping curled next to Russ’ computer. I scooped him up, dashed to the sitting room, tossed him into the room, and hurried away. 

Ten seconds after Ogden entered the room the mouse was caught and entered the annals of history. I am surrounded by heroes. One large and furry, one small and furry. Thank you Russ, thank you Ogden.

Nightmares

My husband has been battling a nasty cold for the last few days. Friday night it peaked and this is a summary of what followed. I had worked the Home Show and returned late at night. 

 We needed quite a bit of time to unwind so we did not head to bed until midnight. That's when the snoring began. 

 This was the cadillac of snoring. He would rapidly fall asleep and then it would sound as if he was sucking his entire body down his throat only to spew it up moments later. This went on for an hour. 

 I decided to take a bath. From the bathroom I continued to hear the tortured snoring. 

 Sadly, after returning to bed it continued for 1 1/2 more hours. It finally ceased but by then I was afraid he had stopped breathing. He hadn't. Thankfully, around 3a.m. I fell deeply asleep. 

Sometime later I heard him let out a loud shout and then yell, "What was that?" He then shot across the bed dragging the bedclothes, shoved me out of the bed, and deposited me next to the dresser where he held me tightly saying, "What was that? What was in the bed? Are you ok? Are you ok?"

 I have no idea why I'm standing next to the dresser rubbing my knee. Or why Russ is clutching me. I did see something fly out of the bed and I was looking anxiously around the room for "something scary". 

Now ala, Paul Harvey, for the rest of the story. It seems that he was having a nightmare that someone was coming in through the bedroom window and trying to grab me. The cat decided at that moment to jump between our pillows. Pippin was tossed out of the bed, the bedclothes followed, and my valiant husband scooped me away to safety. 

 Unfortunately, that was into the side of the dresser. So today I have a bruised knee, a funny story, and a hero.

Common phrases, Uncommon Day

It’s always the darkest before dawn. Especially if you are hitting the snooze button and pretending that it’s the middle of the night. 

 One morning I got up determined to put my best foot forward but after attempting three different outfits I had to call a spade a spade and admit that this early bird was not catching the worm. 

 My husband who is a man after my heart woke up on the wrong side of the bed and was giving me the hairy eyeball. Perhaps it was because it was raining cats and dogs outside. Nevertheless, I cheerfully said, “Keep a stiff upper lip. Don’t get your dander up. There’s a song in my heart and I’m ready for love.”

 My effort went over like a lead balloon and I realized if I continued to mess with the bull, I was going to get the horns. Time passed and there was no use beating around the bush, it was time to go to work. I rode shotgun.

 I was expecting an easy day and Russ reminded me not to count my chickens before they were hatched. “The best rule of thumb is to cut to the chase and to realize that what goes around, comes around. Don’t beat around the bush and if it all goes down the tubes, remember that loose lips sink ships.” 

 With all this encouragement I girded up my loins and got my foot in the door and was determined to mind my p’s and q’s. The day began like a shot and soon I was busier than a one armed paper hanger. 

 One crisis followed another but I was on it like white on rice even though occasionally the right hand didn’t know what the left hand was doing. 

 Our newest employee who was still wet behind the ears resembled a chicken with its head cut off but after I encouraged her to pass the buck she was much better. The client that was a fry short of a happy meal was made an offer she couldn’t refuse and that hit the nail on the head. 

 At the end of the day my boss complimented me by saying I was a chip off the old block and though I’d felt like a fish out of water that was a shot in the arm. 

 When Russ picked me up I commented, “Even though it felt like things were going to hell in a handbasket, we snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and right now I’m as happy as a clam.” So ended another day. And before I kick the bucket or am pushing up daisies I wanted to share it with you.

Grandchildren

My grandchildren give me so much joy. I guess being able to observe kids and the way they process information is too precious. 

We were talking with the boys about natural disasters and I was telling them what it was like to have a tornado pass through. We used to go down the basement, hide under my dad's work bench, and pull a mattress over the opening. 

 Their Paacha had the bright idea of showing them excerpts from the movie "Twister" so that they could see a tornado. We rarely have them in VT. 

They went on up ahead of me and I entered the room to see the boys, Karl (7) and Dominic (5) with just their heads peeking out from under the futon to watch the movie. Did they think it was comparable to me hiding under a workbench. Every time I think of it, I smile.