Yael's Memories

Ruth's longtime friend Yael Dowker writes of her:


I have known Ruth for many years, but never had enough time with her, as we lived on different continents. She was a person of great personal integrity,  with a very warm heart. She was at the same time very discreet, and in almost all situations could find the right word or action to suit the occasion.  She lived her life according to her own straightforward human principles. She was independent of judgmental conventions, without any emotional need either to conform to the conventions or to consciously defy them. She judged everything on its merits, without emotional baggage that would be expected of most people in in situations associated with very difficult and stressful experiences.  She took things as they came, facing things with uncommon objectivity for a person, who had so many knocks, and with determination to surmount the next obstacle. She reminded me of the Jewish joke, which I told her, and which she appreciated:

Scientists discovered that in three months, a meteor would hit the Earth, and that as a result there would be no part of the Earth’s surface that would be under less than a hundred feet of water. The Pope called his flock and exhorted them all to repent and receive the last rites. The Protestant leaders also all exhorted their congregations to repent and pray for forgiveness. Then the Chief Rabbi made his address: ‘O Jews of the world! You have only three months to learn how to live under a hundred feet of water!’

She was resourceful, funny, very helpful, and great to be with.

Ruth photos

Ruth with friend Hannah, at Mark and Ellen's wedding

 Ruth with daughter Bonnie, perhaps

On left: Harry Klein, a lifelong family friend. At the 1980 Epstein family reunion.

Ruth loved going to Bagel Family with her extended family. Grandson Milo visible in mirror.

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Norm, Bev, Ruth

Ruth at NIH

We are eager to learn more of Ruth's time at the National Cancer Institute, at the Clinical Center and elsewhere at NIH.  Could anyone help us identify her co-workers in these photographs?

Ruth with NIH co-worker

Ruth in front now, one from righ, with co-workers, NIH.

Ruth photos 1960s

On a beach, Summer 1972 perhaps during our cross country trip from Berkeley, CA back to Washington dC

On porch of our house on Chevy Chase Parkway, c. 1968

At Fourth Lake, Adirondacks, Summer 1968

Ruth with Bonnie, Summer 1968

Ruth with Bonnie at water pump, Summer 1965

Ruth with Mark at 8 weeks (April 1961).

Ruth in front of Moscow State University, during her visit to Soviet Union in  August 1966. On far  right: Jeanette Greenberg. 

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Ruth, perhaps at Montreal Expo in 1968

At Mexico Pavillion, Montreal Expo in 1968. 

Ruth photos 1945-1955

Here are some photographs from Ruth's adolescence and early adulthood in Philadelphia.

Ruth, on left, c. 1948 in Philadelphia

Ruth in middle, to right. c. 1950?

Ruth swings bat, c. 1950

Ruth on left. c. 1950

Ruth, c. 1952

Wedding of Ruth's sister Anne to Dave Bruckner. June 6, 1953.  Ruth in rear, one in from from left.

Feb. 1946. Ruth in front row, one in from the right.

 

Ruth, c. 1954?

Ruth, c. 1954

Ruth Memorial Service Details

Several friends and family members have asked for the details on the music and poetry performed, as well as the order of speakers, at Ruth's memorial service. They are as follows:

The lighting of the candles was done by Ruth's grandchildren, Nina and Milo Auslander-Padgham.  Before the lighting, Rabbi Ben Biber recited, at the family's request, Walt Whitman's "The Last Invocation" from Leaves of Grass:

At the last, tenderly,
From the walls of the powerful fortress'd house,
From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed
doors,
Let me be wafted.
Let me glide noiselessly forth;
With the key of softness unlock the locks--with a whisper,
Set ope the doors O soul.
Tenderly--be not impatient,
(Strong is your hold O mortal flesh,
Strong is your hold O love.)

Ruth's daughter Bonnie Auslander then read her eulogy, "Truths about Ruth"

Lisa Rein, friend of the family, led us all in singing the Shaker song, "Simple Gifts" (Joseph Brackett, 1848)

Amy Kleppner, a friend of Ruth for five decades, read her eulogy, "Remembering Ruth"

Ruth's grandchildren play duet

Nina & Milo Auslander-Padgham, Ruth's grandchildren performed on violin the Waltz from Boda (traditional Swedish folk tune)

Ellen Schattschneider, Ruth's daughter in law, read Nina Auslander-Padgham's eulogy, "My Nana"

Eller reads Nina's eulogy to her Nana

Jon Padgham (son-in-law), Eric Epstein (nephew), and Danielle Foullon (friend of the family)  read reminiscences from friends and family.

Isiah Johnson performed on piano the Impromptu in G flat major by Franz Schubert, one of Ruth's very favorite musical works.


Mark Auslander, Ruth's son, read his eulogy, "All real living is meeting"

David Margulies, an actor and Ruth’s cousin through marriage, read Jane Kenyon’s poem Happiness.

The service, at the Kay Spiritual Life Center of American University, was authored and officiated by Rabbi Ben Biber, Humanist Chaplain at American University.


The reception was held at Le Pain Quotidien, 4874 Massachussetts Ave, NW, a restaurant Ruth loved.

At memorial reception. From left: Carl Epstein, Mike Bruckner, Mark Auslander, Bonnie Auslander, Mark Bruckner, Bonni Epstein

Floral arrangements were by Chevy Chase Florists. The music and flowers were made possible by the generous gift of a friend who wishes to remain anonymous. 

Amy Kleppner's Eulogy of Ruth

Remembering Ruth
Amy Kleppner

(Delivered at Ruth Auslander's Memorial Service, June 25, 2014)

I met Ruth over 50 years ago when my husband was a new member of the Math Department at the University of Maryland. It didn’t take long to discover that she was among the kindest and most generous of all the people I have ever known—one who was warm and welcoming, who was a loyal friend, and who loved to bring together people whom she thought would like to know each other, something that kept her circle of friends constantly expanding.

During those years when our children were small, it also became clear that Ruth was a font of knowledge. When I once asked her about footwear for babies, she knew instantly that Pedibears were what I needed. She knew that if you’re on the phone trying to explain to the doctor the croupy noises your child is making, that you should “just put the baby on the line.” She knew that children were the most important thing in our lives. But not as trophies or evidence of our own success, but as individuals who would find their own way.

In recent years, since my family moved to Vermont, my friendship with Ruth became focused on the trips we took every year to a major arts festival. These included four incredibly rewarding trips to Santa Fe, to the Spoleto Festival in Charleston, the Shakespeare Festival at Stratford-on-Avon and the Shaw Festival at Niagara-on-the-Lake in Canada. These trips remain among my happiest travel memories. One could not ask for a better travel companion; Ruth was uncomplaining, cheerful, undaunted by minor mishaps, and willing to try almost anything, with the exception of unhealthy food.

Not that Ruth was a flawless traveler: on one trip she forgot her passport and missed her plane. Fortunately she improvised the rest of the journey and arrived at her destination only a few hours later. She neglected to check the weather in Santa Fe so nearly froze at the first opera we attended. And in one near-catastrophe, she lost her glasses. I’m convinced that it was only divine intervention that allowed us to find them since there were probably 50 places where they might have been.
It’s only fair to say that I was far from a flawless traveler as well. Ruth had to ask that we upgrade our accommodations after an awful stay at a shoddy motel in Santa Fe whose sole merit was its proximity to a Whole Foods. I forgot that she was not the serious long-distance hiker that I was, and consequently I sometimes dragged her on long, exhausting walks instead of calling a cab or getting the car. There were walks that on the map—to the Folk Museum, for example-- looked short and easy but turned out to be weary miles long and uphill both ways; galleries that went on forever along never-ending streets that left us weary and footsore, but they all had to be seen.

And there were differences in style as well: I prefer to follow maps and discover places on my own, while Ruth liked asking strangers (no better informed than we, in my opinion) for directions at regular intervals. But one way or another, we always managed to find our way, and we never argued about it.

It is not that we had spectacular adventures on these trips. But we took enormous pleasure in the many wonderful performances that we saw: operas at Santa Fe, plays at the Shakespeare Festival and the Shaw Festival, and a great variety of music, drama, and experimental art at Spoleto.  We managed to see almost everything. When tickets were unavailable for the Philip Glass interview, we just sneaked into the hall and waited. There’s a moment, late one night at Spoleto, that epitomizes our whole experience. It was a day on which we had attended a chamber music concert in the morning, choral music in the afternoon and a play at night, with gallery-visiting in between. As we left the theater after the evening’s performance, Ruth asked me, “Where do go next?” She was always ready for more, even though at that point, the only proper response was “Straight to bed.” Those were some of the moments that cemented our friendship and kept it going all these years.

Finally, I will end with a metaphor and a poem, even though they are both somewhat counterintuitive. First, I think it is true that life deals us a number of hands—some good, some bad—and we have to play them as best we can. Ruth played the hands she was dealt with courage, skill, and equanimity. She never despaired, never gave up, never tossed her hand in.

And last, because Ruth loved all the arts, it seems appropriate to end with a poem that to me speaks to the occasion. It is an old-fashioned poem by Ben Jonson, not the sort of poem that is popular today, but one that I love all the same.

It is not growing like a tree
In bulk doth make Man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night—
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.

We all know too well that life is never perfect, and yet in Ruth’s life, we see just beauties.  We were fortunate that her life was not cut short, but on the contrary, exceeded the stipulated “three score and ten” that we are allotted. Her life enriched us all, and she will be in our hearts forever.