Ruthie Davis was one of those childless cat ladies to be feared by some—and revered by many. When I first knew her, she was the point person for Wyoming’s HIV/AIDS community planning group through the Department of Health. She had already lost her life partner, one of the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League players (of A League of Their Own fame), and the league disbanded the year she graduated from bat girl to earn her own spot on the Blue Sox. So Ruthie shared her quirky but spacious Cheyenne home with a succession of rescue cats who often found themselves the focus of her high-caliber photographic skills. She maintained a darkroom in her tool-filled basement, and framed many of the best cat photos to decorate the halls connecting other artwork displays, notably from Native American and Hispanic artists. She regularly secured a vendor spot at the annual (just completed) 5-day campout on the Medicine Bow National Forest, organized by Wyoming Equality, the state’s LGBTQ+ advocacy and support organization. She sold not only photography from many of her favorite outdoor landscapes but also a variety of beautiful jewelry inspired by her master’s work in archeology across Turtle Island’s southwest.

In so many ways, Ruthie served to bridge communities and causes. Her respect for indigenous religions and goddess-centered spirituality didn’t diminish her connection to, nor her donations for, the Catholic faith her family instilled when she was young. She coached young people in baseball and softball long beyond her own youthful years, and she temporarily gave up her own career to care for her elderly mother. Though she was a classy urban lady, she loved the wild waters of the Upper Peninsula, and western Wyoming’s snow-covered mountains. The Arbor Day Foundation was among her many regular charities, because trees supported her beloved bird-life. One of her last road trips was to our just-emerging organic farm, where we invested years of adding trees and shrubs so even when the farmers market life was behind us, the birds would enjoy the literal fruits of our labor. Beyond her long-distance driving days, she continued organizing and flying to the annual baseball league reunions, and she never stopped answering letters from little kids who wanted to hear her baseball stories.

From old to young, trees to cats, art to health to religion, to diversity and inclusion, Ruthie was a Renaissance woman I was honored to call friend. She read many of my short stories and an early version of what is now The Scent of Distant Family, and at her urging I drafted a follow-on story, ten years farther into the future with many of those characters she grew, through the pages, to love. A person for the planet who knew no separateness was ever real, the life she lived so well will continue serving as a model for many.