Ruth Ann Mentzinger (Née Disbrow), born September 20th, 1965, passed away peacefully in her sleep the morning of October 27th, 2026. She is survived by her husband Scott Mentzinger, her sister Kathy Krapf, her brother George Disbrow, her children Griffin, Hayden, Jack, Luke, Olivia, Emily and Jim, Chelsea and Eric, and Wyatt and Kate, and her grandsons Theo, Isaac, and Everett.

It may be unconventional, but I think the best way to explain Ruth is with some memories I have of her. Moments that my family share:

How, when I was 4, she would sit with me, Chelsea, and Emily and play with us. She would take off her big, circular glasses, and blow giant bubble gum bubbles, so that we could pop them (but it’d never splatter like in cartoons). How she’d play Elvis and the Beatles in the kitchen, and dance with us around and around. How she’d nap with us and give us nose kisses (brushing her nose back and forth to our noses). She always made us feel like we were her whole world

How we would catch my mom and dad hugging in the kitchen while we ran crazy around the house

How she’d sit at the kitchen table on weekends, planning out next week’s dinners. Circulars were spread out everywhere; her glasses pushed up, denim blouse sleeves rolled up; scissors at the ready to her right as she’d thumb through pages of coupons, talking about a new casserole she found on Martha Stewart’s everyday living magazine

How she sued the school district when Jack and Luke weren’t getting a proper education at school. How terrified she was about arguing with the district’s head of special education (she was particularly cruel and condescending to my mom at the time). How she spent every week for months and months going anyway, and fiercely fighting for her kids. How she got them everything she asked for. How she never settled for less when it came to her children

How she would hug longer than other people, like she didn’t want to let go.

How she clung to her independence for as long she could, while her illness took more and more from her. She’d lean on the kitchen island, to say she could still stand. She’d get levers and buttons in her car, to keep driving.

How she did collage art when she couldn’t hold a pencil or paintbrush anymore. How proud she looked when she saw her children’s art pieces, and would frame and hang them in every room of her house.

These memories and more help us continue keeping her name and spirit alive in our hearts. And I hope they help show my mom as she was: a woman who should have been known and celebrated everywhere, yet preferred privacy and a tight-knit world of her favorite people.

Muscular dystrophy robbed Ruth of her golden years, and kept us from seeing her enjoy a full life.

But I hope her story inspires you and friends to consider donating to the muscular dystrophy Association. Here is a link to it:

https://giving.mda.org/page/FUNERJEJWCU?utm_source=google&utm_medium=paid_search&utm_campaign=evergreen&utm_content=sld-dr-26-brpro-sem-eg26-sitelink-035&gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=23804635913&gclid=CjwKCAjwgJHXBhBGEiwAHohJqwJ8yJaHzCPc-Y4rYLhr4dSAbIEGct_YTX6Sl_IzA4XLNtOef4G29BoCKfkQAvD_BwE