“Sh*tttttttt!”: lessons from Ruby Rae, my grandma

The blessing and curse of Facebook memories. On October 14th the platform reminded me that my grandmother had been gone for a full 10 years. I must have still been numb on that day in 2009 because I literally posted two sentences… everyone knows I’m long winded with the written word. Normally. Now the images of US…of her…will not go quietly to their place in the back of my mind.

Ms. Ruby Rae didn’t believe in sugarcoating the memory of the dead. There were many weekends when I would sit at her kitchen table eating homemade apple turnovers in my pjs as she ranted on about dreadful deeds of folks whose bones had most likely turned to dust before I was born. Her truth. Her stories. Repeated often. That said, I am my grandmother’s girl….I won’t tarnish her memory by polishing up her legacy.

My grandma could be but usually was not “sweet”. More spice than sugar, she didn’t have time for syrup. A husband taken down by mental illness in his prime resulted in raising 4 black boys in Chicago relatively alone…one of which was murdered and another severely handicapped….no, Ruby Rae had no time to be “sweet”. She was brass, guts, sass and hustle. Oh yeah…and fight. She wielded her tongue with precision, unapologetically. I was drawn to her whirlwind from day one. During many solo visits to the Texas country, with only she and I in her spacious ranch-style home, I slept with her well into my college years, lapping up both bite and wisdom as we talked into the night. She always had my spot ready for me. Just a touch of honeyyyyyyy (chile). I miss her. Sigh.

Here’s a sliver of the many lessons I learned from the woman who I can feel pushing me forward (via the middle of my back) from the other side.

The Lessons

1. SURVIVE. Sexual assault. Physical abuse. The death of her oldest child. Dreams deferred…and crushed. Yet, she would not stop. She would not give up. She would not lay down and die…until she did. She showed me how to keep going with my neck tall and spine straight, even when life is coming down on me like Thor’s hammer. Bend, never break. KEEP LIVING in spite of….then you’ve survived and killed the thing that tried to kill you.
2. BE A SAFE PLACE. My grandmother’s house was one of the safest places on earth for me. I knew if I could just make it there, I would be protected, loved and provided for one way or another simply because she made it that way. The house… the land was prepared for her family. It represented stability and plenty….plenty of space, big beds, towels and….perfume. My Grandmother loved perfume. But it was really HER. She was a safe place for me. I picked up the importance of this in an emotional and spiritual sense. Every where I’ve lived on my own, I’ve had even complete strangers cross my threshold and feel The Presence. They knew. “You are safe here.” **Unless you’re bringing trouble…then OFF WITH YOUR HEAD! (in my sweet voice)
3. LOOK OUT FOR THOSE WHO CAN’T LOOK OUT FOR THEMSELVES. My Uncle Ray was my Grandmother’s baby boy. He was severely mentally and physically handicap for most of his life. My grandma worked well into her 70s but she had the goal of bringing my uncle home from the facility he was being cared for in. Eventually she did. But before that, I remember many times, she would take me to see him. Haircuts, nail trimmings, eating and simply sitting, making our presence known was what these visits entailed. And she was always ready to slice anyone with her tongue who were suspected to have mistreated him. He would smile when I smiled, saying his name, kissing his droopy cheeks…touching his beautiful soft curly hair. A lover of music, he would snap his fingers and rock to most anything that came on the radio. Doctors said he wouldn’t live past 20 years. He lived to 66 and then yesterday, my sweet innocent uncle joined my grandmother on the other side. He survived because SHE wouldn’t let him die and God was in agreement. She showed me how to love those who most people would look over and forget.

Yesterday was hard for my family. My Dad and my Uncle Wilbur in particular, who took care of his brother for over a decade. But the circle of Grandma’s legacy continues because we, her family, are still here…and multiplying. I can hear her laughter now, filling up the corners of heaven…and as soon as she saw Uncle Ray as she’s NEVER seen him before….”Sh*tttttttttttttt! Boy, you made it!” Yeah. I believe he did. Be FREE Uncle. Be free.