For the family and friends of Ruth Pond Parker Clark 

            Two years ago, I wrote, “Ruth, you honor me to ask me to speak at your funeral whenever and wherever it may be.  You are so dear to me, one who has known me and cared for me all of my life.  Even now as an old man, I count on your weekly phone calls and our chats, ostensibly about my daddy, but we both know they are about bonding as mother and son”. ________________________________________________________________

             Of course, I had hoped that this day would not come; that somehow Ruth would outlive me, and I would never receive a call to perform.  Today I am in Hawaii, while Janet reads these remarks, but know...my heart and thoughts are there with you, celebrating her life. It was a good one. 

            Last Saturday night a bit after nine o’clock, I lost my mother.  It was as if for a second time my mother died.  This was Ruth Pond Parker Clark, who was there in the hospital, 72 years ago when I was born, and nurtured me with a mother’s love for a lifetime.  I am grateful for this good fortune. You should all be so lucky! 

            I cannot talk of Ruth like most of you...of Ruth as a middle-aged and elderly woman.  While I have talked to her once a week for the past several years, those talks were about our aches, pains and the routines of life as old people do...pills, doctor visits, and friends who are struggling, and whose names appeared in the obituaries since our last phone call.   

            Since I learned of her stroke in mid-December, Ruth has been constantly in my thoughts.  I visited her in rehab in Greensboro.   For nearly 95 years, she was inextricably in the fabric of stories of our community, family and friends and I shared in some of them.   These are mine; you all have your own stories and memories.  Take comfort in them.  

             What I cherish most is from sixty years ago, the years between 1945 and 1960, when her son, Floyd, and I were inseparable boyhood companions.  Those were wonderful times. 

            We lived in the same Cradock Gardens neighborhood, with a six-minute walk between our houses. Ruth worked for the local radio station, and my mother kept Floyd every summer’s vacation from start of school into high school. In the winter, we visited in each other’s house as often as not. Our families were merged as one.  

             On most Saturdays a treat for my sister and brother, who are here today, and for me, was to be chauffeured by Ruth...our family did not own a car... to a downtown movie theatre for a western movie, a serialized short...Flash Gordon, Lash Larue, Hopalong Cassidy, Superman, or the like...and Looney Tunes Cartoons.  We saw nearly all of them for ten years, avoided most movie-house contagious childhood diseases, and escaped rampant ringworm, a dreaded movie house danger of those years.

Vivacious, high-spirited, fun loving, a good friend, a caring mother, this was my Ruth.  When she and my birth mother, Ruth’s true, best friend, were together, there was always fun in the making.  I remember seemingly countless and endless fun-filled days at the beach, or just hanging out in the sun in our tiny Cradock Gardens backyards…as one big family.  I remember always feeling love and protection from her.  I could do no wrong in Ruth’s eyes, even though I was constantly in “kid-trouble” in my own home.

“Now when I remember spring... All the love that joy can bring...I will be remembering...The shadow of your smile”.

The warmth of Ruth’s cheerful smile and wonderful laugh was a marvel.   Her willingness to laugh even in the bad times was like a trademark that was Ruth Clark.  I know that you agree.  

            Ruth was a tomboy as a youngster. Her parents, Walter, a railroad-man, and Mamie Pond were stern disciplinarians who had their hands full.  She was rambunctious, played with the boys most of the time and grew up to be a pretty girl with lots of boyfriend suitors in high school.   
 

            Ruth, this beautiful and wise surrogate mother of mine lighted my pathway with a candlepower that seemed to glow brighter for her family members.

         Her sweetness shined through her sparkling blue eyes and I loved her even more for her gentle sense of humor, sometimes at my expense.  She was that rare person who, through the years, always asked how my children were, by name, and knew them; even though she rarely saw them...she kept up with me, and them.  I was flattered.  I believe she treated all of her extended family like this.

            She was a great success...managed a career, before most women worked outside the home, made sure her beloved son, had all he needed and more and inspired him to be the first of his family to earn a college degree.  She was proud of his beautiful wife and children and his teaching career, and lovingly administered to him through his long-term, fatal bout with leukemia.  Everyone who knew her in those roles knew the single-mindedness of the strength of her personality, and her deep dedication to Floyd. 

            In early December, not one of us had an inkling that Ruth, our dear companion, mother, grandmother, and cherished friend was soon to slip the surly bonds of earth.  We are sad and we miss her.  We want her to be with us for all the rest of our life’s journey, but alas, that will not be. We know that she lived a long and fulfilled life, and our good memories of this quintessentially Southern lady, will soon overcome the sadness of today and she will live in our hearts forever. 

            We loved her for many things, not the least, because she loved her family and was such a generous, loving life partner to Don Clark.  We will remember her as a giving and caring mate.  

            As this eulogy ends, please remember how you loved and cared for her and were loved by her. Her stepchildren felt her love for them like her own flesh and blood.  Her grandchildren were special shining stars in her firmament.  Her great-grandchildren were the icing on life’s cake.  She loved you all...and I have been the luckiest of all for these past 72 years that I have been her second son.