Knowledge from Ruth

She Who Remembers

Genealogy was very important to Ruth, Ruth said “My mother was a genealogist and she thought that knowing more about your family was the most important thing in the whole wide world.”

Today I want to share a few things that Ruth shared with her family over time.  The stories I will tell you are compiled from letters, a flat Stanley visit, an interview by a granddaughter and from Ruth’s own genealogy records. 

Ruth told her niece Suzanne that “Here in the west and almost all over America, where the tribes of Indians lived, they had no written language, so they told their history to their children in stories.  This was a very important job, the children had to learn so they would not forget who was who, where they came from and why things were the way they were.  There usually was a very special person who did this job.  Usually it was an old woman and she was loved and respected a lot by her tribe.  She talked and listened to the children.  She was kind and took the time to hear their hopes and dreams and helped them in many ways.  Because she told them stories all they time they sometimes called her “She Who Remembers”  When she was getting old she would think of all the young girls in her tribe and pick one to teach all the stories that she knew and all the healing she knew.  As long as “She who Remembers” lived she did her job.  Then when she died, the one she had chosen took over and so on.”

Ruth went on to say “In our family it has been like this also – My mama, Margaret Rosalie Bowman Palmer, was our “She Who Remembers” when she died, the part kind of fell to me.”

Ruth’s parents were Margaret Rosalie Bowman born on February 24th, 1919 and Albert Nathan Palmer born on September 26, 1917.  Ruth loved the story of how they met.  In her words: “My mother was in nursing school and she was doing her internship at a psychiatric unit.  My dad was part of the farm project at the hospital growing the food they used.  They met and got married.  Rosalie couldn’t be married and be in the program, so she left the program and got married.  They basically met at a mental institution which is why we are all so crazy.”  

Margaret Rosalie Bowman’s parents were Leonard Gowers Bowman and Nora Ellen O’Neal.  Ruth kept this poem written and dedicated to her grandma Bowman, who was struggling with a serious illness.  As I read it please notice the similarities passed from generation to generation of these wonderful women. 

Mission Mother

I know a dear woman in Denham Springs,

The children God gave her are 2,

But the children she’s mothered are more than these,

She’s given them love that is true.

They’ve met her and left her throughout all the years,

Gone back to their homes in the West,

But the love that she gave them still lives in their hearts,

When they were her welcome guests.

Her home has been used for the work of the Lord,

Meetings, parties, and love,

When you sit at her side in her dear humble home,

You feel sweet joy from above.

Throughout the long years she served all she met,

Spread cheer, goodwill, and content

And even through suffering herself often times,

She cheered others wherever she went.

She loves the Gospel, God, woman, and man,

She teaches the truth everywhere,

The joys of the gospel that she has known

She wants with others to share.

And now that she’s suffering and having her

Turns at hospitals, sick beds, and pain

Dear God, comfort her, bless her, and lighten the load

That with the Saints she might mingle again.

And help her to know as she lies on her bed,

How dear she to us has grown,

Stay near her and strengthen her, bless her with peace.

For she’s a dear child of her own.

Ruth spoke of her father Albert Nathan Palmer all the time.  “My dad is the reason I love to dig

in the dirt,” she would say, “My sisters didn’t do it but I did. HE was also the peacemaker of the neighborhood he would listen to everyone’s complaints and problems and then repeat what they said to him back until it sounded absolutely ridiculous”  Ruth loved to tell her grandchildren that when there was a need in Deham Springs that her father Red would put a paper bag on the counter of the general store and everyone in the community would donate and when it was full Red would go deliver it to the family or person in need.

When asked Ruth said these were her favorite traditions growing up: “When I was a little girl my aunt was married to an old man and he was the stingiest man in the whole world. He wouldn’t even let his family have a christmas tree. He was just so stingy. The whole time we were growing up every christmas we would take christmas to my aunts kids because they didn’t get a christmas. Another time she said, my brother in law thought that every holiday needed fried chicken. No matter what the holiday he had to have fried chicken. Another- Everyone got a birthday cake no matter the size or the kind everyone got one. Lastly, she told of her favorite tradition. My daddy use to say everytime something mysterious happened my daddy would say “Tahootie did it!”  Everyone still says it now, all my nieces and nephews.”

Ruth wrote a letter to her niece Kristin that I would like to read, it can apply to all of us.  Listen as if this letter is to each of you. 

Prints in Time

Lines on a page, light and color in a new baby’s eyes.  Some prints were deep and some only carried the past to the next generation.  Some were light and some were dark, but mix them all together and ou have the present and the future of our family and our nation and the world.

They brought hopes and dreams to America and love for each other where ever they went.  I pass this love and all our dreams on to you.  Go get your life.  Hang on to your dreams.  When you fall, don’t take so deep a breath that you lose the drive to get up and go on.  Some holes we fall into are deep and we hurt; Don’t Quit!  One more step is some times all it takes.  Maybe 1,000 more steps, but you will never know if you quit.  One more turn in the road, one more mountain to climb, always one more.  But the day you pass your dreams, my dreams, grandma’s dreams on to who ever you chose to be our next “She Who Remembers,” you will see it has been worth the trip. 

My life is not over; grandma’s life is not over.  But yours is just beginning.  Be the keeper of our faith and carry our dreams on to the next generations.  Try to remember to tell the children all the things you have been told and add your testimony of the Church of Jesus Christ to mine and grandma’s and on and on and on.  We are a chain that goes on forever.  Each link is only as strong as the ones before and the ones after.  Be our link that holds us all together. 

Put out your hand to help those who are weaker, feed the hungry and take time to nourish the sick.  I know every time I have done this, the blessings I have received have more than paid for the food or time I have invested in helping others. 

Get up early once in awhile, just to hear the birds sing for joy of a new day and see the sun reborn.  Stay up late once in a while and go out and see the moon rise just for the joy of it.  Listen for the peace of silence just so you can hear the little sounds of nature and enjoy the sounds of hearing your loved one’s laughter.  Sometimes clean and help cut a graveyard you don’t have family buried in just to let other know they are not forgotten.  I have tears in my eyes when I tell you that no nation can be great that forgets all those that built the roads and bridges that they enjoy. 

Know that I love you and believe in you.  Carry our family into tomorrow with pride in those that left tracks in time and not just stones and bones in a graveyard. 

                                                            With Hope

                                                                        Love, Ruth