Ruthie’s Ways
Part One
From 1966 to 1999 Ruthie Ellerby worked tirelessly in the local cotton mill in Trinity, Georgia. She’d still be a “spinner” at the mill if it hadn’t been for “the mill ‘a closing,” as she’d always say to her friends and family. Ruthie never married and never had any kids of her own, but she was an aunt, great-aunt, and great great-aunt to several. She loved her family, but didn’t put up with their modern ways and worthless actions. Hardened by some of the changes in the world she didn’t approve of, the local townsfolk always said, “that’s just Ruthie’s ways.”
A good four hours from Atlanta, Trinity was well removed from the hustle and bustle of the big city. While no one would ever use the word progressive, Ruthie believed everyone was equal and enjoyed attending a local Methodist church that welcomed all. She would chastise her younger sister’s kids for not bringing their kids and grandkids to Sunday school. They just all looked at each other and said, “that’s Ruthie’s ways.”
Ruthie always found joy in growing a massive garden. She believed in growing your own as much as possible and often gave part of her harvest to those less fortunate than she. Ruthie lived in the same single-wide trailer she bought in 1972. When the mill closed, Ruthie had to find work until she turned sixty-two and could draw social security, so she spent twelve years “sittin’ with old people.” Ruthie was a great caregiver. She would often stop in at Merkie’s country store and pick up special items for Mrs. Clovis Aderholt, Mr. Gordy Simmons, or another of her “eldersly” as she pronounced them. Some of the menfolk from town played cards at Merkie’s, and while they knew never to mess with Ruthie, when she’d leave ole man Merkie would always say, “that’s just Ruthie’s ways.”
When sixty-two finally arrived, Ruthie retired and started keeping her great nieces and nephews, while their parents drove miles and miles for work. The little trailer became filled with laughter and love, like Ruthie had never known. She could calm a baby, discipline a spoiled toddler, or smack a mouthy pre-teen whenever the need arose. No one ever complained, because it was all done with love, it was Ruthie’s ways.
Retirement seemed to be going well for Ruthie until the cancer set in. All those nieces and nephews she had raised came a running to their aunt’s side. She handled it well and was strong, even though she knew the fight of her life lay ahead. She prayed and gave it to God, her trusted ole doctor, and the willpower she’d built up, because that was just Ruthie’s way.
Scroll down for Parts II and III and follow Ruthie’s journey.
