I'm luckier than most of you in that I've known Ruth all of her life. She and I were like peas in a pod growing up. We loved each other dearly and were BFFs in everything we did. I also have the distinct honor of being her first patient. Ruth came out of mom's belly saying "I wanna be a nurse." There was never any doubt in her mind. She had nurse dolls and doctor bags and nurse costumes at Halloween. She depressed my tongue with Hunky sticks, took my temperature with pencils (the eraser proving I was burning up with fever and not likely to survive) and treated all my ills with M&Ms—a prescription I continue to this day.

And we fought—lord we fought. But it never lasted more than a day, if that long. She had her "making-up rules." The trick was figuring out how to follow hers. Her rules changed as soon as you adhered to each one. There were some really funny memories when we were 6 to 8 or 9.

We slept in the same double bed from the time we were 2 or 3 until we were about 7 or 8. When it was cold we spooned to keep warm, unless she was mad. Then she would make us sleep back-to-back, but she got to put her cold feet on my butt or legs. When we finally got twin beds, she divided our room into her-side and my-side with a piece of electrical tape down the middle of the floor showing a clear boundary. I was allowed to get as close as I wanted to to the line, but not touch the tape and not step on her side. I out smarted her by getting to my side by jumping from the doorway to the chair to the bed and down to the floor on my side. Then she made up the rule that I could only get to my side by using the floor. I spent many an hour aggravating her by standing on my side and inching my toes ever closer to the black tape.

Since I was not allowed to touch her side of the room, she thought she was pretty clever claiming the side of the room that had the door. So, naturally she figured I shouldn't be allowed to get to my side of the room without paying her a "toll." I think she got that idea from the story of the troll under the bridge. The toll changed all the time. Sometimes she would make me do dishes by myself, sometimes she wanted to wear my headband or shoes. Once mother found out we had divided up the room, she told Ruth I didn't have to pay a toll, I could go to my side of the room without the toll. So Ruth made a path along the linoleum tiles on the floor that I was allowed to use to get to my side. I was only allowed to go from her side to my side and back by staying on the "tile-path." I remember walking as slowly as I could so I could aggravate her while she policed my trip to my side of the room and it allowed me to stay on "her side" longer than she thought I was allowed. She was so funny about that path. Some days the path was narrower than others—I could only use half the width of the tile. She even had a rule for a few days that I couldn't go in the room unless she was there to make sure I stayed on the path. Mother never found out about the path. I think we both knew it would spoil the fun.

Another funny memory was washing and drying dishes. We didn't have a dishwasher when we were little, so she and I had to clean up the kitchen and wash and dry dishes every night during the week. When mother wanted to punish one of us, she would make that one wash and dry alone, which I did ALOT!. One of us had to wash for a week, the other dry, and the next week we would swap chores. (Ruth hated to wash so she would always swear on Monday that she had just washed last week!) The one that dried the dishes was in charge of quality control. The washer was not allowed to question the drier's decision to put a dish back in the dish pan for not being clean (another of "Ruth's Rules"). When Ruth was mad and it was her turn to dry, she would make me re-wash dishes for hours. To this day I blame her for my dishpan hands.

It seems like only yesterday that I was "type-rope-walking" to my side of the room while she carefully scrutinized every step.

jb


**June is mom's oldest sister-- thanks for blogging for us this week, June!**