My Aunt Ruth, at almost ninety-nine, is a legend. Still beautiful, still active. She tried to resign from all her boards of directors when she turned ninety-eight, but her resignations were not accepted. She is the only remaining member of my mother's generation.
She's up-to-date on almost everything, but she refuses to have a computer. I can't email her so I call her often and fly to see her about once a year. Every couple of months, I print out these blog entries and mail them to her.
Recently I sent her a copy of "Mom and Dad—Meet My Budget," an article written by her great-nephew (who is our son Seth) that described our frugal trip with him through Nicaragua earlier this summer. Seth wrote about how his "older" parents tolerated the lack of amenities nicely.
Yesterday, I received a letter from Aunt Ruth thanking me for the article. She enjoyed it. She was impressed with Seth's writing. But the part of her note I loved said, "He happens to have the best parents in the world." I'm focusing on that part, rather than the next sentence which qualified it a bit.
"Certainly the bravest…"