Carol Ann Ritchey

Carol Ann Ritchey was probably rolling her eyes at us weepy saps surrounding her when she exited her earthly body on Saturday, February 18, 2023. Although always a great listener and loving shoulder to cry on, she did not go in for heavy sentimentality herself, preferring to keep things light with her wicked sense of humor and ridiculously drama-filled TV shows. Perhaps her no-nonsense attitude derived from being born in 1940, in the shadow of the Great Depression, the oldest daughter and second oldest child of nine. I imagine growing up in Glen Campbell, a small mining town in Pennsylvania, with the Salsgiver brothers and sisters, Jimmy, Jerry, Gene, Danny, Diane “Sue,” Cheryl, Ted, and Dorothy, helped to perfectly hone Mom’s sense of humor as well as her BS detector. Firmly in the no-bull camp, if she didn’t like the dish you cooked for dinner, the new haircut you just paid beaucoup bucks for, or the boyfriend you just brought home to meet the family, you would know about it – and quick. That said, she would also be the first to tell you when you looked great, when that man was a keeper and when you cooked a delicious meal – and you knew that she was telling you the honest truth.

She was, herself, an expert at delicious meals. All those around her gleefully (emphasis on “fully”) benefited from her inability to cook for less that 20 people no matter how few would actually be at dinner. When we were young, she would patiently teach her children, Nancy, Pat, Phil and myself, with us standing beside her on a chair in the kitchen. Some of us were more eaters than learners (I will not name names but I’m looking at you in heaven, Pat) in which case Mom would impatiently and firmly bat your hand away while you tried to grab the freshly fried pork she just laid down and seasoned on its blanket of paper towels.

Her famous sweet and sour pork was a family favorite. Requested on every birthday in our house growing up and then later by her grandchildren, Evan & Sabrina Barbour, Naomi (Dalas Brengman), Natalie & Bella Ritchey and Max & Grace Klaus, on their special occasions. Like many of your parents’ and grandparents’ labors of love, you take for granted the true effort involved until you experience those things yourself. It is no easy feat standing over hot oil, frying a few battered chunks of meat at a time to feed what suddenly seems like an army of hungry hyenas grabbing each piece of meat every time you turn your back to check on the sweet and sour sauce.

And that was just one of many favorite dishes. When we had families of our own and realized just how good we had it growing up, we called her up to get her to tell us some of her recipes. Mom responded with exasperation as we tried to nail down the details. It wasn’t that she was trying to keep the recipes a secret, more that she cooked with no recipes herself, just using her skill and tastebuds. So she would tell you the ingredients and you asked, “ok, how much vinegar?” and she would sputter, getting more and more frustrated as you asked this for each ingredient down the list, “well, you know, enough!”

After high school, Mom left Glen Campbell, a town small enough that you might blink and miss it if you’re driving through, to go to Washington D.C. Although she reported being scared when she first was let out of the car on a corner in that big city, she quickly found a good job, a life and many friends there that she kept to this day – all before the age of 20. I remember once turning on the TV series Mad Men when she came for a visit and she told me “I don’t have to watch that show, I already lived it.” A beauty in the secretary pool at the Department of Agriculture in the 1960s, she had to do her job while getting hit on on a regular basis. I imagine her no-nonsense skills helped a bit then, too. She eventually married, moved to Maryland, had two kids, quit work to raise her kids, divorced, went back to work, married again, quit work, moved to the South, had two more kids, moved to Ohio, returned to work at the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH) in Cincinnati, and divorced again. There was a lot of love and a lot of heartache in those years…I like to think more love than heartache.

When her grandchildren started to come along, there is no doubt that love won out. Mom loved her grandkids more than anything – more than geode-hunting, video-game playing, PJ wearing, Art Bell listening, or even kicking all our butts at Scrabble & Words with Friends. Eventually, she retired from NIOSH and spent her free time helping to raise them. “Caregiver” is one of Mom’s many titles. She often sacrificed her own needs to provide for those around her – especially if those “needs” included a mountain of presents for the grandkids to open on Christmas morning that included what Nancy, Phil (Suzette) and I, Joan (Matt), can only guess were deviously planned “revenge gifts” for whatever trials we put her through, like irritatingly loud musical toys, more candy than is humanly possible to eat and full make-up sets for our toddlers.

The only beings on earth that might have tied the grandkids for her affection were dogs. Mom never met a dog she didn’t like, nor one she wouldn’t inappropriately feed from the table, from her chair or any old place she chose, training be damned.

Mom never worried overmuch about tradition, and, per her wishes, we will throw a party in her honor rather than a funeral service. This celebration of her life will take place in late Spring in Cincinnati, and we’ll send details to family and close friends soon. Meanwhile, if you have any pictures or stories about Carol Ann to share, please feel free to add them on the attached Tribute Wall or bring them to the party, where we hope to share some good food and many beautiful memories.