Aunt Ruby

I have this strange belief: The really great people are the ones who can walk into a room and no one notices.  They don't need to be funny, clever, business junkies, or talk like angels.  Aunt Ruby was one of those great ones.  I remember her when I was eight.  Her five sisters and one brother were all named after precious stones.  She never married. She was a nurse.  She served in the army and traveled with a famous heart surgeon to places where no one else wanted to go.  This heart surgeon never felt ready for these trips unless Aunt Ruby was by his side.
She wasn't really my aunt, but her family was our family.  She was direct and caring-believed in the importance of education, and courageously stressed the equality of women and men.
At Thankgiving family feasts, there were my mom's unhealthy peacan pies, Uncle Millard's turkey and dressing, and Aunt Ruby.  She knew your name, she took time for everyone, she did her part, and she was always who she was-not funny, clever, a business junkie, but really like an angel-there for you.
When I was born she was 39.  When I got married (she was there) she was 60.  When my dad died she was 70.  My mom and Aunt Ruby turned 90 the year my mom died.
This Friday Aunt Ruby turns 100.  How long do I want to live?  I want to live as long as I can do what Aunt Ruby did and is still doing-I want to live as long as I can make a difference each day I'm given breath.  How about you? 
This Friday Aunt Ruby will walk slowly into the room and everyone will notice-maybe.  Happy Birthday Aunt Ruby, I know it will be!

RAW