Ruth Hamilton, 109, was world's oldest blogger

Ruth Hamilton, 109, was world's oldest blogger

While the blogosphere is still mourning Australia's great-great-grandmother Olive Riley, the world's oldest blogger, who died on July 15, aged 108, her scribe, Mike Rubbo, has discovered an even older blogger.

Ruth Hamilton, of Orlando, Fla., USA, passed away on Jan. 18, three months before what would have been her 110th birthday.

Her blogs were videos, posted on a little-known Web site, GrowingBolder.com, whose executive vice president, Bill Shafer, had known her for years.

Just as Olive had a helper in the form of Mike Rubbo to post her blog, Ruth received help and encouragement from Shafer, who wrote a moving eulogy.

Here it is, published with GrowingBolder.com's permission:

For the first time in 109 years, 9 months and 5 days, Ruth 1898 is not on this earth. The oldest blogger in the world quietly slipped away. Her mind was crisp and clear to the very end.

It's not often you can say a 109 year old left this earth too soon, it's true with Ruth. She was sharp, quick-witted and simply charming. Things changed overnight. She awoke with a bad headache. She hurt to the touch. She didn't want to get out of bed. This went on for nearly two weeks. It was very different from her usual routine.

Most mornings she was early to rise. She loved to gaze out her bedroom window, watch the sun come up and trace the clouds that would float across the skies of a new day. To Ruth, each day was a wonder to behold. Her curiosity would shine as bright as the morning sky.

Ruth believed her sense of wonder kept her alive. She had always thrived on learning. Not so much so she could know, but so she could teach. Teaching was her purpose in life. And she'd been at it for a very long time.

She first became a teacher in 1916 in a country schoolhouse in Iowa. As technology evolved, so did Ruth! When radio became popular, she found a way to use it to teach. Ruth was one of the first women to host her own show in New York, on which she taught speech, elocution and English.

She moved to Los Angeles in the late 30's where she taught diction to Hollywood starlets. She even taught in the political arena, becoming the first woman elected to the legislature in New Hampshire. She taught through the newspaper, writing articles, travelogues and letters to the editor. She even used her own life as an example, writing a no-holds barred 500-page autobiography, "The Hamilton Saga". And finally, she taught over the internet.

The years flew by. She was in her mid 90's when this fiercely independent woman decided it would be best to move into an assisted living facility. She sadly believed her days of teaching had come to an end. This woman who routinely traveled the world now seldom left her building. The walls closed in on her. She had no purpose, no voice, no passion. I saw this happen to Ruth and it was painful to watch. Until something amazing happened.

Marc Middleton and I started work on GrowingBolder.com, a web site dedicated to shining a light on the biggest change in the history of mankind, the age revolution. Life doesn't start a downward slide at 50 anymore. Our site celebrates the new reality, the new possibilities and the new potential.

It struck me that Ruth would be a great role model! I knew she would love the life-affirming, motivating content we created. Did she ever! Almost instantly, her spark for life reignited. The computer was her stage. The whole world could be her audience. She got right to it. She filed dozens of video blogs at GrowingBolder.com.

The internet had given her voice back. And what a wonderful voice! A woman born in 1898 was now an internet pioneer. She was, in fact, the oldest blogger in the world. She even started getting fan mail from users who sought out her advice. Oh, did she love that!

Blogging made her relevant again. She had so much to offer, so much guidance, inspiration, knowledge and experience to share. I believe it made Ruth happier than she had been in years. But no one lives forever. Ruth filed her final video blogs for us just two weeks before her death. She was very pleased with them...

Her final wish was that you would continue to watch her blogs, enjoy, find inspiration and learn from them. What a wonderful gift they are from a woman born of another time, who wanted most of all to help make a difference. Through them, her wit, wisdom and curiosity will live on even longer than her 109 years on earth.

©2008 GrowingBolder.com

You can listen to Ruth's videos by visiting GrowingBolder.com Web page.

And Olive's YouTube videos are listed at http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=%22olive+riley%22&search_type=&search=Search

Now that Ruth and Olive are no more, the latest World's Oldest Blogger seems to be Californian centenarian Frank Pelatowski, who calls himself the World's Oldest Newspaper Columnist.

Frank, who lives in a nursing home in Merced, California, near Yosemite National Park, writes an entertaining weekly column for his local newspaper, the Mariposa Gazette.

He says in his profile,

I'm 100 years old. That makes me the world's oldest newspaper column writer. In about 80 years as a writer, I have probably written millions of words, including hundreds of newspaper columns.

I've written books for children and have two or three other manuscripts underway. I hope to publish my new book, The Wit and Wisdom of Frank V. Pelatowski -- The World's Oldest Newspaper Columnist, later this year (2008).

I was born in Massachusetts and grew up in Connecticut. I joined the navy at age 16 (in 1923) and was called back into service for World War II.

I've been married twice, both wives died while married to me. I have no children, but consider many children to be like grandchildren to me. I live in California and still get around pretty well, considering my age.

Sadly, his friend David Burke reports that Frank, who will turn 101 next Sunday (Aug. 10) is "under the weather." His blog was last updated on May 4.


This story was first published by OhmyNewsInternational: http://tinyurl.com/5brv3d

OLIVE RILEY (1899-2008)

This proxy blog has now closed. Olive's friend Mike Rubbo continues posting her blog, "The Life of Riley" at http://www.allaboutolive.com.au/

R.I.P. Olive, Ave Maria!

Please click on (or cut and paste) http://tinyurl.com/5ayvx3

And listen to Mike's BBC4 broadcast: http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/ipm/2008/07/nonagenarians_and_centenarians.shtml

R.I.P. OLIVE RILEY

Oue dear friend Olive Riley passed away peacefully on Saturday, July 12. She will be mourned by thousands of Internet friends and hundreds of descendants and other relatives.

POSTSCRIPT. Mike has just told me that many people are having trouble accessing Olive's blog. Let's hope it's only a temporary glitch. He sends his thanks to all the bloggers who have sent message of condolence through this temporary blog.

Mike says he will approve and post all messages so far sent to him, as soon as possible. Keep trying to access the site, but the problem may take a day or two to fix. So please be patient!

My tribute to Olive Riley has just been posted at http://english.ohmynews.com/ArticleView/article_view.asp?menu=A11100&no=383146&rel_no=1&back_url=

OLIVE SERIOUSLY ILL

Eric says:

I'm sorry to report that Olive is seriously ill. She sleeps most of the time, so I was unable to read your messages to her when Mike and I visited her this morning (Friday, July 11).

As Mike has returned from his world tour, this temporary blog will now cease. Mike will let you know more about Olive when he updates her blog: http://www.allaboutolive.com.au/

SETTLING IN

This is a temporary blog created for my friend OLIVE RILEY, of Woy Woy, New South Wales, Australia, aged 108, the world's oldest blogger. Her main blog, The Life of Riley, is posted at http://www.allaboutolive.com.au/

OLIVE RILEY'S 74th POST

Olive says:

Hello, dear friends everywhere.

I can't believe I've been here in this nursing home for more than a week. How the days have flown, even though I've been in bed most of the time. I still feel weak, and can't shake off that bad cough.

I've never been treated so well in all my life. The nurses can't do enough for me. Ask them for anything, and they are only too happy to provide it.

Penny, who's in the next bed to mine, had a visit one day this week from her daughter, who's a professional singer. Guess what happened! She and I sang a happy song, as I do every day, and before long we were joined by several nurses, who sang along too. It was quite a concert!

Mike expects to be back home from his world tour on July 9. Perhaps he'll make a video next time our choir performs, so you can all join in.

Eric read a whole swag of email messages and comments from my internet friends today, and I was so pleased to hear from you. Thank you, one and all.

Brenda Bryant, from Newcastle, just 50 miles north of WoyWoy, read my earlier post about my memories of Washing Day when I was a young girl in Broken Hill a century ago, and cleverly turned it into a poem, which she has sent to me. I'd like to share it with you.

FOR OLIVE RILEY
The World's Oldest Blogger

Sometimes, I hear the young complain of all they have to do.
But I am sure that their complaints should really be quite few.
Take Washing Day, for instance, all they do is press a knob,
And then machines go whirling round and quickly do the job.

They throw in powder, maybe bleach, and softener as well,
And dirty clothes are whirled about, then spun around, pell-mell.
And then, to follow up, I hear, they set the dryer spinning,
They've hardly raised a finger to the end from the beginning.

But things were very different in the days of long ago,
When Olive Riley's mother washed her clothes as white as snow.
And Olive well-remembers that, when it was Washing Day,
Daughters had to do their bit; there was no time for play.

First Olive looked for firewood, which was sometimes hard to find,
She had to hunt for broken twigs or sticks of any kind.
Sometimes she found a fruit-box that was thrown down on the floor.
She chopped it with a tomahawk, though it made her fingers sore.

After filling up the copper, her Mum would light the fire,
And the water would start heating, as the flames grew ever higher.
Then she threw in some soap chips, followed by Reckitt's Blue,
(That was a clever little bag that made things look like new.)

Next she got the Sunlight Soap to scrub at all the stains,
And, sometimes, if she scrubbed too hard, there were blisters for her pains.
The corrugated board was rough, her hands were roughened too,
Ruined by years of scrubbing, but what else was there to do?

Then, she threw in the dirty clothes, and gave them all a stir.
The steam rose up in clouds and very nearly smothered her.
She was splashed by boiling water, and the bubbles stung her eyes.
And a line of snowy washing was to be her only prize!

Yet, now, would come the starching, of the collar and the cuff,
And, however hard she starched them, it was never quite enough.
For Father must look perfect when in his Sunday Best,
He mustn't look inferior, measured against the rest.

At last, the clothes were clean and rinsed and the fire had lost its heat.
Mother was quite exhausted, after so long on her feet.
But the hardest job was yet to come, an energetic trick,
For she had to get the clothes out with a hefty copper-stick!

Imagine sheets all water-logged and weighing half a ton!
Her back was nearly broken by the time that job was done.
A soggy mass lay, wetly, in a tub, somewhere nearby.
The washing was as clean as clean, but not the least bit dry.

Now Olive had a job to do, though she was scarcely grown,
For Mother couldn't mangle all the washing on her own.
Between the wooden rollers Mother fed the dripping clothes,
While Olive turned the handle, standing on tippy-toes.

The mangle squeezed the water, it came quickly pouring out,
But the washing was still wet and heavy, that I do not doubt.
But Olive and her Mother had to drag it to the trees,
Where a line was stretched, so washing could be dried off in the breeze.

When all was safely pegged, they stood and eyed the white perfection.
But a flock of noisy magpies swooped and swirled in their direction!
They aimed for Mother's washing, causing splish and splash and stain!
'Oh well' said Olive's mother, we must do it all again!' http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/

Thank you Brenda, for a really lovely poem! Love to all of you from wintry Woy Woy.