Aunt Ruthanna is my dad’s older sister—only by a couple of years. They were both born in Cuba where their mother was a Quaker missionary. Their dad, Joe McCracken, was a highly respected individual and when he died in 1973 I remember sitting in Harlow Ankeny’s office at Barclay Press. “Are there people today like Joe McCracken?” Harlow asked. I think it was a rhetorical question and a reflection of his admiration for my grandfather, but after a short pause I answered: “Perhaps my Aunt Ruthanna. I think she’s cut from the same cloth.”

The phone call tonight could have come any time during the past week. Her life here on this earth has ended, but her influence lives.