02/18/2021
Ruth Robinson Rieu, By Henriette Rieu
Ruth was a wife, mother, sister, aunt and friend. Being a housewife is sometimes under- appreciated, as we all know. Her gestures were not grand, but much like a pebble dropped into a pond creates a ripple effect, her small kindnesses radiated waves of love out into the world.
Ruth grew up during the depression. Her father was the only person in the family who had a job. Ralph Robinson had 7 brothers and sisters and Emma Beeman had 6 brothers and sisters, none of whom had a job. Therefore, many nights there were 10 to 14 people around the table. Gram was around 6 years old. She ate very slowly and could never get desert. It would be gone before she finished her meal, so her mother, Emma, would let her eat her desert before the meal. One night they were having pork chops (her favorite dish, as we all know). Everyone got one including Ruth. There was one extra on the meat platter. She stuck her fork in the chop and asked: “does anyone want this extra?” They all laughed and said it was hers for the asking.
When she married Eli, she was only 17 years old. He was in the Army about to be shipped out with his MASH unit to Korea. They had a three-day honeymoon and she was pregnant right away. I was born 8 3⁄4 months later. She said everyone was talking about her and counting to make sure I was conceived after the wedding. It was looked upon very badly to have babies before marriage in those days. Thus, the saying “first comes love, then comes marriage, then come Mommy with the baby carriage”.
Within two years, she had two babies and little money from the military, so she moved back in with her parents. Her mother had almost died twice undergoing gallbladder surgery. At 20, mom was caring for her sister Linda, 3 years old, me, 2 years old, and Ralph, just born. Plus, she did the cooking and cleaning to help her sister Cleo, 13 years old, and her father and brother, both working in the steel mill, and her sick mother. Wow, she was made of steel. Tara is like her. A pillar of strength and a force of nature. So is Melissa.
She was crazy about animals. Over the years, we had a Rooster named Elmo, an elephant rabbit, dogs named Queenie, Taffy and Trixie, and a parakeet. She once saw an ad for a baby monkey and tried to convince Eli to buy it. He said “I draw the line at monkeys. No, Ruth. No way.” He adored my mom and usually whatever she wanted, he did, but this was one of the only times he said no to her. Her last dog was
Cuddles, whom she adored. She is with Cuddles and Dad now in heaven. She got there just in time to celebrate her wedding anniversary. Another time on vacation we were driving through farm country. My Mom hollers, “Eli, stop the car! I see something.” She jumps out, jumps the fence and grabs a little black lamb. As she is running toward the car a farmer comes out of his house and starts shooting at us. Eli hollers, “Drop the lamb, Ruth.” As we sped away my mom says “but Eli, we can go back to pay for it.” Eli says, “Ruth, if we try to go back, that farmer will shoot us all. Are you crazy?” She was crazy, full of fun, full of sass and fully kind. In Annie’s words, “We all loved her. She was a “PIP”.
I remember my mom and dad would take me and Ralph bowling all night and then watch the sunrise. We would sing “Shine on Harvest Moon” in the car when the moon was out. Every year, we had a week-long vacation. Since they did not have much money, it was usually camping. Family picnics were organized. Some of the trips were to Atlantic City, the Statue of Liberty, Conneaut Park, Lake Erie and Niagara Falls. However, there were times when we had no money. A few times my mom would make cinnamon toast soup for supper. She would make it fun and tell us how lucky we were to have dessert for supper.
We all adored her. She was the kind of person you could talk to. She really cared what you were saying and listened. Something at which I have never been good. She had neighbors coming to her for advice all the time. She would offer tea or coffee and pastries and just listen. One day a lady came talking dirt about someone else in town. Suddenly mom says, “You will have to leave. I do not allow gossip in my house. You can tell me anything about yourself or any troubles you may have and they will never go outside these walls. You cannot talk about other people. Please leave.” Mom was my moral compass. She taught me the very clear lines of right and wrong.
