Ruth, just Ruth

Chapter 30

Thunder then calm

Ruth lands on her feet running 1977

I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari

Tehachapi to Tonapah –

Lowell George – Willin Linda Ronstadt Heart Like a Wheel

Ruth, just Ruth

“You got a nice place plenty of room for Ruthie. She’s a good worker when she is not off mooning over them horses.”

“I don’t have horses to moon over.”

“Have a good summer Baby Ruthie” Ruth hugged her parents and they drove off.

This bit of string, who was barely a woman, had arrived with a few clothes on hangers, a couple of jackets, several things in grocery sacks, and some boots. Carol watched the old car drive away wondering what had, she agreed to.

“First off, do not call me Ruthie and I am not a baby anymore.”

“OK is it Ruth then?”

“Ruth yes, I will work right beside you, and learn what I can help you with. You’ll sell a bunch more with me a’helpin, Miss Parker”

“You can call me Carol. I will keep track of your hours and calculate a share of the profits. This is my third summer some things are starting to be established, but there is much to do. I am glad you are here”-thinking I hope am glad. Ruth amused me; she was a spunky little gal.

“I promised my folks I’d go to church on Sundays. Do you go to church?”

“No, I haven’t. My grandparents went to the Methodist church in Franklin.”

“That will do, can you get me there? I don’t want to walk, but I will.”

“Yes, I can get you there. Did you have horses?”

“The neighbors did, and I worked with them, as much I could. Pa worked at the lumber yard. We raised stuff for the family and took some to sell at the markets. We couldn’t afford a horse. I saw you last year and I asked about you. People knew you were new here and working by yourself. I decided you could use me, and I just had to get away from home. I was not going to marry that awful Billie Joe from church. You will never regret I came.”

“There is always more to do. Hopefully, it will be a good year and I can make it worth your time.”

“It will be worth my time to spend a summer not being called Baby Ruthie”

Ruth had never been anywhere other than two trips to Kentucky and Tennessee. One summer she and her mother had stayed and helped her grandmother. Her father picked them up just before school started.

Ruth said. “My Kentucky and Tennessee family thought I was a Yankee, but up here we are considered hillbillies.”

“Many folks don’t think I belong here, either. Others just accept me as a Parker.”

“It is easier to be from an established family; outsiders are not trusted here. My folks are too new to be established.”

Ruth was a help at any task. She thought I had been everywhere. I came to understand sometimes one plus one equals four in results around the farm. Many times, it takes two to lift something, or one to hold while the other ties, nails, or digs. She had good ideas to improve my growing crops. She offered marketing ideas on what to grow. Ruth had many ideas about what to sell especially in seasons when we did not have strawberries or apples. One day Ruth said, “Miss Carol” She always used Miss Carol when she wanted me to pay attention.

“We need to pick some of those squash blossoms and take them to the farmers market tomorrow. We will still grow more squash than we can use or sell.”

“Why would we take squash blossoms to the farmers market?”

“Same reason we take anything else, people will buy them.”

“What would they do with them?”

“Batter and fry them like mushrooms, people love anything battered and fried.”

We did pick and box squash blossoms and they did sell. Many people were thrilled we had them. No extra cost and revenue that I hadn’t expected. Ruth was a clever marketer. She was right I never regretted Ruth becoming my assistant. Ruth quickly became a business partner and I never called her Ruthie.

Ruth and I worked all week, she helped with meals; I enjoyed listening to her. We went to a farmer’s market on Saturday and I took her to church on Sunday. “I’ll go down to the supermarket, and be back to pick you up, Ruth.”

-

One lady told me, “You come too Carol Parker, you know your grandma would want you to. You were such a nice little girl in bible school.”

“They were so friendly I loved being there. They all remembered your folks, and a few knew you. You will have to start attending, it is a joyous thing.”

We went on home and fixed dinner. During the week Ruth looked over the plans for converting the old barn on the South 20 into our market. She finished a set of shelves that JB had started. On Saturday while we were at the farmers market JB came back which was his habit, now. If not every weekend then every other JB came fixed, built, or installed something. Sam just automatically came in and laid down watching as if he were a work supervisor. I had been inviting JB to supper and we talked. JB had been drinking less. He had some beers after he went home on Saturday night, and while friends came over on Sundays to work on cars, trucks, lawnmowers, and sometimes motorcycles. He would buy a 12 pack at Bill’s on the way from the implement dealer and drink at home. A much more moderate lifestyle than before the winter night I had hauled him home. We found a space to be honest with each other and listen to each other.

JB said’ “I didn’t think a hippie could know much about anything. Honestly when I seen that Jap truck with peace stickers all over it. I thought what does some lazy ass pot smoker want to mooch from me.”

“I used to smoke pot, but it would just get me in trouble here. I was suspicious enough; I had too much to do for pot smoking. There was only one peace sticker on my practical little truck, a cartoon Keep on Trucking guy and a Grateful Dead decal. They had all come with the truck.”

“I smoked some joints when I was drunk. I didn’t notice anything. I don’t understand why someone would sit around smoking a joint instead of grabbing a cold beer.”

JB began to work by himself mulling over the past couple of years. We had engaged in many conversations as he worked at the farm. We had both learned perspective from each other, we knew we had a very different perspective from each other. JB had come to find out there was far more to know than any one person could know. I had decided many people knew far less than they knew. We worked together with respect for each others different set of skills. I was book smart and business came naturally. Still I knew nothing about tractors and a thousand other things farm kids took for granted. I appreciated JB’s help. I tried to be polite and express gratitude for his help. I had become a counselor after the cussing he gave me on the ride home. JB stayed sober for two or three weeks after that. I didn’t let his harsh insults change me. JB began to think about things. He could scream insults at me, but he realized that just came from inside his own hurt. JB pondered many questions about himself. He was devastating in hand to hand fights but who was he fighting? wasn’t it himself? JB had some vague understanding of himself, I was able to express words. Words that he would think about during the week. JB liked fixing tractors it made him feel good; he knew he had accomplished something. He had come to understand my vision and he enjoyed accomplishing measurable things on the farm. The raised beds, the stand for a farmer’s market, the flats for strawberries, the piping and plumbing for water were all things he could see what he had done. JB came to conclusions which he could almost share. I think he felt the Parkers had been good folks and he felt right helping their granddaughter. He and I discussed politics. He generally voiced just attitudes and feelings. I added a sense of history to the discussion. I knew details of people and events, had an understanding of law, and a depth on the politics of what was happening. He told me life might be better if more of the educated hippies were deciding things in government Of course, he figured I being, a Parker, and part of the Franklin community meant I was different. Once JB explained this to me. Carol you are nothing like those filthy loud-mouthed protest leaders who were tried in Chicago. We heard snippets about them while I served in that rifle company. I was facing life and death and that was some kind of circus. I suppose, JB might have called it performance art or street theater, but the only theater he knew showed movies. If it was Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry or High Plains Drifter it was worth seeing. If it wasn’t Clint Eastwood, it was probably just some pussy trash. I had come to appreciate JB’s perspectives, I would simply agree with him. They were correct in his own sense of things. JB knew he and I were good for each other but not husband and wife good for each other. I was a special woman and we had a special understanding. He thought of some of those Western movies he had watched. He had been the unruly wild stallion and I had ridden the wildness out. Now he was fit to be around others. Many had been giving him a wide berth, but old friends were inviting him to parties now. A few of the local gals had begun to act like they might enjoy riding in his Roadrunner. At least, they seemed to feel he wasn’t going to grab an M 16 and shoot up the place. JB was working in the old barn when he heard us return from the farmers market. After unloading some boxes I introduced JB to Ruth.

He asked Ruth, “did you finish those shelves?”

“Yes, Pa worked at Hardy lumber yard. I can measure and cut.”

“Well they look good. I got a lot of barn left to work on before apple season. You want to help me, for a while?”

“If Carol doesn’t want something.”

“No, I will water and then I’ll start fixing supper are you staying JB?”

“Yes, I like your meals, but you know it cuts into my drinking.”

“You two come up about six”- as I walked away I heard, JB ask Ruth if she went to school in Jefferson?

We were having dinner in the kitchen. My quick single meals had become normal and lonely. I was enjoying Ruth being there. Tonight, I enjoyed listening to JB and Ruth as we ate. They were discussing the barn project as JB called it.

Ruth said, “No JB we need to call it the market. The business will be much more profitable when people drive out here. Carol already has a better barn up here; it just needs a couple of horses.”

I smiled while nodding no.

Then Ruth calmly added, “JB is going to take me to church tomorrow morning. He likes the minister who was a comfort to his Grandma Dell.”

Trying not to act like lightening had just struck the kitchen I asked, “Is he taking you in the Orange deathtrap?”

“His Roadrunner must be so cool, it’s got an 8 track, I am very excited to ride in it.”

“I have ridden in it and survived, some of his music is enjoyable. Buck Owens is a little much for me.”

“I love Buck Owens.”

“I will fix dinner for when you get back. It will remind me of being here with Grandma Parker. Sunday dinner was an event.” We started to clean up,

“JB is going drive me around, I know very little about Franklin.”

“You go then, JB knows everything about Franklin” I wanted to add don’t let him drink but I felt with Ruth it wasn’t a concern.

On Sunday morning I heard this rumbling roar of the Plymouth Roadrunner. JB pulled up by the house and did the ‘beep beep’ horn; Ruth came running out bible in hand and hopped in the car. I waved from my weeding as they pulled out. Two things had just happened for first time ever to my knowledge JB was sober on a Sunday morning and going to church.

I hoped JB’s 8 track was playing that cowboy song.





Sam F - photo