The photo above is my mother, Ruth Allen Miles, about 80 years old.
This topic today will be about my mother, born Ruth Allen, daughter of Levinah Emeline Wilson who married John Butler Allen. Ruth was born on May 10, 1908, the 8th child of 9 children. Her mother had been a school teacher for a year or two before they married in 1893 in the Manti Temple. Their Marriage Photo
He was a successful cattleman until a winter in which their herd all froze to death out in the cold Panguitch, Utah, winter weather. After that he did odd jobs. One year while shearing sheep he got his eye cut with a horse switching it's tail, and got infection! With no pennicilyn, the infection spread until it consummed his body, and he died early in my mother's first year of school. His wife Levinah, my grandmother, was a widow for 37 years, in a time without Social Security or other helps for widows. Her husband had asked her before he passed, to please not go out of the home to work, and stay home with the children. They all helped pay for the home, and living expenses, and shared what they had. Her mother had a gift of growing flowers inside her kitchen, even during the winter.
The family moved during her high school years, to St. George, Utah, where there was a 2 year college her children could attend, those who were old enough. Out of the 8 children who were then alive, six of them became school teachers. My mother, Ruth, had the gift of writing poetry, which she did when inspired. Her mother Levinah lived with us in St. George when I was a child, and was a Temple worker. But in the winter of 1946 she went to live with one of my mother's sisters as we moved for one winter to Salt Lake where she finished her bachelor's degree at night while teaching during the day, as I remember it. For Christmas that year she sent this to her mother. Levinah Emmaline Wilson Allen passed away the following March 26, 1946. Ruth had a beautiful, operatic voice, took lessons, and sang in several operettas at Dixie Junior College.
WHEN I THINK OF YOU
Of what do I think when I think of you?
A rose you wore all pearled with dew;
Or the radiant brilliance of a setting sun
And the satisfaction that comes from work well done.
Of the wonder of morning with the sun's first hue
Of beauty I think, when I think of you.
I think of a farm surrounded with hills;
At the thought of it now my heart quickly fills
With rapture, as in memory I roam
O're the hills and the trails of my childhood home.
And my heart fills with calmness, serene and true,
Of these, Mother I think, when I think of you.
I think of life in a large, homey room;
The big shiney windows and your flowers in bloom,
And I carry again, the flowers you pick
For somebody's funeral, or to one who is sick.
I see the big table that used to be there;
The chairs circled round it, and our family prayer.
I think of an old Chapel, choir seats in a row;
How you first got me a member, I'd still like to know.
And I sing the dear hymns as we used to do,
And I feel that I'm sitting there now, close to you.
I think of the old Opera House and your wall side chair.
I know I sang much better because you were there.
You were such a chum through our college days,
Your face is all mingled with its dances and plays.
And I see again your warm happy smile,
Your courage and fortitude always made life worthwhile.
I think of the Temple all gleaming and white,
And its halo of brightness in the darkness of night.
I think of the years, that under its roof you spent,
How you loved the work, your life so content.
The work in the Temple seems more deep and true,
Because of the sacredness of it taught by you.
I think of the struggles, and trials, and strife,
I think of the sincerity of your humble life.
I think of determination, of strength and grit.
Of a soul that knows not what it means to quit.
Of all the nobleness I ever knew
I think of, dear Mother, when I think of you.
by Ruth Allen Miles given to her mother, the last Christmas she was alive, 1946
Below is Ruth in college, younger, in her 20's.
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