Linda J. Humes

“And I heard a voice from heaven, as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of a great thunder: and I heard the voice of harpers harping with their harps: And they sung as it were a new song before the throne, and before the four beasts, and the elders: and no man could learn that song but the hundred and forty and four thousand, which were redeemed from the earth” Revelation 14:2-3 KJV

I woke up this morning with a most vivid memory. It was about a woman that I knew 50 years ago, an amazing woman that I haven’t thought about in such a very long time. A woman that made a powerful impact on my life, but I never really realized it until just today, this morning, in the dark before dawn when everything seems to be more pronounced and clear.

This is the story of that woman. Jan’s Mom. I don’t remember her name for sure, but Ruth echos in my mind. I’m not sure whether Ruth was her name or whether her story reminds me so much of Ruth in the Bible that I have honored her with it. It fits her.

Ruth was a frail looking woman in 50’s when I met her. She was the mom of my husband’s best friend, Jan. If you saw her on the street you might think that she was eccentric, perhaps not “all there”, but you would be wrong. She was . . . Ruth.

Ruth lived in a simple 50s home in Tempe, AZ not far from the ASU campus. In her home were 2 pianos, an upright in what was designed to be a living room, and a baby grand piano in what was designed to be the family room / dining room. Besides the pianos there was a small inexpensive dining table with 4 chairs neatly placed around it. That was it. Nothing more. I never went into any of the back rooms. I suspect that Jan may have had a traditional bedroom, but I never saw, I only assume.

Ruth wore 2 long bath towels stitched together at the shoulders and along the side, with a heavy string around her waist. During the winter she wore a long sleeve shirt underneath, but when it was warm, just the towels. On her feet were cheap flip-flops with the strap designed to go between your toes behind her heal and several wraps of duct tape making a strap towards the front for her to slip her toes into. She always wore socks with them. Always.

Ruth made her living teaching children to play the piano. She had developed a numbering system to teach the basics of music and after the students had mastered it she taught them the notes that associated with the numbers. I never quite understood it, but I heard the results of her teaching and it was amazing. She taught them the gift of music, the basic structure of music, the love of music. They played because they wanted to, not because their parents were forcing them to take lessons. You could see in their eyes that they loved the sounds that resonated when they sat at the keyboard.

Ruth drank water from an old jar, but made sure that I had a plastic drinking cup to drink my water from. She always had one soda set aside for my husband, it was his favorite drink and she would always make sure that she had one just for him. Every day she ate tuna from a can for lunch. The cans were kept in a bag to be recycled. Nothing was ever wasted. Every thing had a purpose.

In the family room was a fireplace and on the floor in front of it was a stack of laid out towels. Long ones. That’s where Ruth slept. During the day she would walk around the neighborhood with a cloth bag and collect up pieces of wood to bring home. If she found out about a home being remodeled or a area where they were building new homes, she would go pick up the wood pieces that were going to be discarded and she brought them home. That was how she warmed her home. A small fire in the fireplace, right next to the stack of towels on the floor where she slept, a few towels beneath and a few towels on top for comfort.

Whenever I visited Ruth we sat at the little table and talked. Her skin was so thin you could see her veins beneath. Her brown and gray streaked hair fell on her shoulders, framing her wonderful face that always paid complete and absolute attention to every word you spoke. She would always place a piece of blank paper and a pencil where I sat because she knew that I liked to doodle. So, as she paid her undivided attention to another at the table, I would doodle. When she gave me her undivided attention, I would honor her with the same. When I would leave she would collect the doodles and put them on the front of her refrigerator. Maybe she knew that one day I would become an artist. I wonder if she did.

When Ruth listened to you speak it was as if you were the most important person in the world and every word you said was imperatively important. Her eyes were focused on yours and she nodded as she listened to encourage or agree on points. She never gazed around the room or in the direction of another, when it was your time to talk; you were the only thing that she focused on. I never had met anyone who did that before. I was 1 of 5 children and in my home focus was always broken as craziness was happening all around. Not with Ruth. When I talked to her I felt very important. I felt like my words mattered. I felt like I was being heard. And yet, all the time that Ruth listened or spoke with you her hands were playing a song on the dining table. Not a simple 2 or 3 finger picking song, but her hands danced across the table, back and forth, just as if she was sitting at the piano keyboard. She was playing wonderful music that only she could hear as we shared precious time together.

Ruth was a wonderful classical music pianist and I often wondered if our conversations were being spoken over the sweet echo of Debussy or the strong impacting Beethoven, or perhaps somewhere in between with Bach, maybe the sweet lullabies of Brahms. I never knew. But I knew that music was so much of a part of her that it never left her for a moment. What a wonderful peaceful place to be.

I remember her out on the back patio, planting vegetables in Styrofoam lunch coolers she had found discarded along the road, and swaying with the music only she could hear. Her little Styrofoam garden did very well in the AZ heat, I wonder if those plants could hear the music as it flowed through her fingers into the soil. I could not hear the music, but I could feel its presence within her.

I felt as if God had given Ruth a very special place to be even when her environment was not the best. A place in her mind where there always was beautiful music and peace. She was never sad or angry. I didn’t ask about her life before, how she came to live such a simple life. She seemed content and that was all that I needed to know. She was an amazing person and I am sure that she touched the deep lives of many, many people.

I don’t know what happened to her. My life moved on and I lost touch with her. I never told her how much she meant to me; I regret that. I never spoke to her about her spiritual life, but if I were to guess, I would bet that she had a very special relationship with God. I bet she heard the music of Heaven in her head every minute of the day. I bet she’s in the angel choir. I miss you Ruth. I wish I had told you 50 years ago how much you touched my life.

I want to be like Ruth. I do hear the music every day, all day, but I want to spend time with others looking intently into their eyes as they speak, making them feel like every word they speak is critically important. I want to hand them a paper and a pencil and have them doodle as they formulate new ideas and thoughts to share. I want to put their doodles up on the refrigerator so that the next time they visit they realize that I didn’t forget about them.

Thank you Ruth for being you. Thank you God for reminding me on this cold winter morning about an amazing person that made such a difference in my life.

Written 2-18-2021

Tags: Attention, Eccentric, Eyes, Heaven, Importance, Music, Piano, Ruth