Ruth wasn't better off than her grandmother, who was born into slavery. She too was born into a tough time to be Negro in American history. Life was less treasured and hers worth least of all. Even among her people she was the least desirable. Like everything at the bottom of the food chain, children like Ruth had to be resilient and lucky to live. Conditions were too desperate to worry over social image or public embarrassment and she grew as emotionally calloused and scarred as her hands and feet. She knew about God, but from where she was looking He was only a rumor. Conversely suffering was so severe that the Great Depression was only gossip for most of her people. In her painful existence, Ruth found moments of joy that she cherished like they were sent to her by mistake and she was always thankful for the slightest nod of kindness. Most men couldn't turn away from the sight of the youthful and naive Ruth and it brought her nothing but difficulty. She had been intoxicated by rare misleading moments of sweet affection but still in her forties she had never known what it was like to be loved. Many in her position had long given up but Ruth saw value in life and looked forward to the next temporary moment of happiness in her miserable existence. Her nightmares had evolved from stories of ghosts and monsters to real life worries and experiences. Ruth was always prepared to fight for the same consideration most took for granted, but sometimes she was pleasantly surprised. Most of us sense something is missing in our lives but she carried a list. Approaching the life stage where the established turn on cruise control she received a call that started everything for her.