Nicola Lubitsch
Family friend
Whenever I arrived at Ruth’s, my weekend bag in hand, she would open the door, an apron wrapped around her waist, deep into cooking something fabulous for dinner. The wonderful smells would make me hungry as I made my way to the little back bedroom, always so snug and welcoming. In the kitchen I watched while Ruth puttered around, a glass of wine in hand, talking and stirring at the same time, as the endless conversation began: gossip, intrigue, KCRW, NPR friends, lovers, and the world at large. Interested in everything, she was an amazing listener. Hanging out with her was comfortable, effortless. I could just be me. She was my friend. I loved her, though it wasn’t always easy.
Ruth was a homebody, never happier than in her house by the beach. Every inch was thought out and special; every space taken up by a wonderfully eclectic piece of art most likely given to her by a famous artist friend, or an objet, evoking a memory of her life.
Ruth was both the most sophisticated and yet the most charmingly naïve person I have ever known. Once, at a hotel in Spain, she needed help from the front desk so she tucked a copy of Homage to Catalonia under her arm, convinced that displaying this would result in preferential treatment.
We were perfect traveling buddies. Finding the Alhambra overrun by tourists when we arrived one morning, we agreed to just leave, disenchanted and disappointed. But, returning after dark, we found a magical wonderland, quiet and otherworldly. We were two romantics dancing and laughing alone under the moonlight. Ruth’s childlike ability to feel wonder was contagious.
It's probably not surprising that one thing Ruth never mastered was driving. She was a terrible driver. She would constantly turn to look at you when telling a story, slowing down, even stopping, whenever she wanted to emphasize a thought. “Ruth,” I’d say, trying not to panic, “you can’t just stop in the middle of the Main Street!”
And then, of course, there was the Ruth of KCRW, for which she will long be remembered. She had a vision and a passion to create a land of dreams and ideas, none too big or impossible. Led by her, we dared to succeed, to be noticed. We all believed it was possible, and it was.
And now it’s our moment to say Mazel Tov, Ruth.
