The Story of Ruby Lee

 RUBY LEE

Gosh I feel so bad tonight for her.  She was weird, aggravating, loud, pale (very pale), and she talked constantly.  Her Father was my Grandfather’s brother.  He was married to Annie.

I never knew why Ruby Lee was like she was.  I really hated it when she came to visit and I may have even hated it worse when we went to go see them.

One birthday we were there and had planned to stay the night.  Aunt Annie threw me some silky pajamas from her bottom drawer and said “Here - Happy Birthday”

The thing about a gift is that unless it’s freely given with an expectation of love and gratitude it becomes a debt.

One time, in the dead of winter, my brother and I were put in the back of the open work truck with one blanket.  Off we went to Troy to see June, Annie and Ruby Lee.  It was freezing.  We survived - obviously.

I’ve thanked Mom for my life several times today.  Somehow Ruby Lee came up in our conversation.

She had been a twin.

Aunt Annie had poured Red Devil Lye down the throat of the other baby.

I can just visualize it, and I feel it, and I’m sure I’ll have nightmares about it.

I can’t imagine anyone, let alone a Mother, doing that to a precious gift from God.

I was making very good money when Uncle June died and so I gave Aunt Annie $500.  I was glad that I could do it.  Strangely I don’t remember any emotion from her or Ruby Lee.I remember my Grandad crying, and I remember my Grandmother putting her differences with him aside for this event.

Many years later Ruby Lee signed over the family farm to Mom and Mom did her best to ‘take care of her”.  Eventually she had to have her committed.

I imagine that Ruby Lee had been told about her twin her whole life.  I suspect that her Mother threatened her with Lye down her throat if she misbehaved. 

Where does such evil come from?

Satan.  He never ever had any intention of having us enjoy our lives.  He planned all along to make us slaves to his dark, evil and terrible way.  Satan spares no one.  He attempts to lead everyone away from the path of light and the destination of our return to live with our loving Heavenly Parents.

‘Judge not lest ye be judged”

I’ve pretty much lived my life non-judgemental.  Now I understand the deep and abiding reason for doing so.  Aunt Annie was likely mentally unwell.  She and June had lived through the depression and didn’t know if Grandad would come back from WWII alive or if at all.

I can just imagine your head shaking like a bobble-head doll.  My undergraduate degree is in Psychology.  There is something called ‘Stockholm Syndrome’.  It’s where prisoners are seemingly favored and then invited to treat the other prisoners as bad as, if not worse than the ‘real’ guards.  In WWII they were called the ‘Kapos’

After WWII a lot of study was done on this.  Turns out that we all have within us the innate ability to do great harm to others.  I’m sure this is a contamination of satan.

How then do we NOT corporate with captors?  What does it take?  Would you be strong enough?  Would I be strong enough?  When do we start resisting?  How do we teach others?  In what ways will we share this with our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren?

We do so by making up our mind right now.   This very second.  We build our love for others by appreciating what they do, where they have been and empathizing with their pain.  We get strong by imagining how it would feel to have Lye thrown down your throat.  We stand up for others no matter the cost to our earthly bodies.  We share our pearls and even protect the swine when necessary.  We teach others by telling the stories and showing the pictures of what was.

God have mercy on Aunt Annie.  I pray for her forgiveness and redemption.  Nobody is beyond redemption and God’s overwhelming love.  Not Hitler.  Not Mussolini.  Not the Inquisitors.  Not those who lit the straw to burn the ‘witches’.  Not the Romans who nailed Christ to the Cross.  Not Cain.  Not the Gladiators.  Not the riflemen.  Not the bomb makers.  Not the bullet makers. Not those that claimed to OWN others.  Not the thieves.  Not the drunk driver.  Not the drunk doctor.  Not bullies.  Not those who find laughter at the suffering of others. 

There are way to many people that history has made redemption necessary.

One last thought - “Did Aunt Annie fall down in the presence of her child?  Did she sing Hallelujah?  Was she able to speak at all?”

JUDGE NOT, LEST YE BE JUDGED.

1958

 1958.  I’ve heard the stories so often.  A group of high school kids with a future brighter than they could comprehend.  They had come from Derita, Bethune and Long Creek.  I’ve been to many of their reunions. After leaving the OBX Mom floundered a bit, however my brother and I ended up at that same school.  Getting to know and making lifelong friendships with her lifelong friends.  I found the love of my life there too.  We were just too dumb to realize it and went our separate ways a few years after graduation.  It was a decision that I regret hourly.  He is forever on my mind.  The kiss that he gave me the last time I saw him and what he said to me “I love you.  I respect you.”. I had no idea that would be the last.

My Mom was an only child and was spoiled by all accounts.  She was born in 1940.  Wen war broke out it is said that my Grandmother ‘had’ my Grandfather called up for service.  My Mom and Grandma went with him as he trained in Texas.  Grandma made sandwiches for the soldiers.  When he ‘shipped out’ they moved to Charlotte.  But before I tell you more about that I want to tell you about Grandad.

I have a minor in German.  All of my classes were under the instruction of Frau Chernack.  She proudly showed off her Auswitz tattoo.  She wasn’t afraid to help us to understand what living it was like.  I remember that she said that she survived by using dirt to put pigment on her skin so that she would look healthier than she likely was and she also said “I survived by doing what a young girl must do”.  She told us stories of the stench of the crematories, the sorting of the clothing and valuables of those jews who were slaughtered.  They were sent into the gas room naked so as to keep them calm.  They had been told they would be taking a shower.  When their spirits had left, Frau Chernack told of how they were forced to drag the bodies to deep trenches where they were tossed without ceremony.  No prayers for their souls.  No kinfolk to hug and hold tight.  No trinkets to remember them by.  But these victims did give something to Frau Chernack and others - the relentless desire to survive, thrive and then tell everyone what the Nazi regime had done.  We learned about the first ‘work’ camp to be liberated by the Americans.

I had asked Grandad several times to tell me of his experiences in the war.  He refused and in fact had asked that I never bring it up again.  So I didn’t.  One day I got an unexpected phone call.  It was Grandad telling me to come right away because he decided that he wanted to tell me about the war.  His voice was shaky and his eyes tested up more than once.  He told me about being in a transport boat.  He had been assigned as the XO of a General.  Grandad was standing beside the General when he was shot dead.  My grandfather could have stayed onboard and escorted the body all the way home, but he didn’t.  Being unattached and alone he stormed the beach as a solitary prime target for the defense.  He made it through and over the dune line where he followed a group of soldiers.  This was the reason for his first Bronze Star.

I don’t know what his second Bronze Star was for - sadly, however I do know what the third one was for.  He was one of the American liberators of that first work camp.  He couldn’t hold back the tears when he told me about that.  He couldn’t understand how people could be so evil and how people could treat others with such obvious disdain for human life and the sanctity that God has given every souls having this earthly experience.  He spoke of the smell.  He said that many of the prisoners had eyes that was like looking into the depth of a cave never before explored.  He told how the Nazis had left so fast that their attempts to cover up what they had done were left unfinished.  The survivors were wearing rags hanging off bones upon which skin was draped.  Grandad looked at the floor as he told me about this.  I’ll never forget the sound of him clearing his throat, the sight of him clenching his teeth as he shook his head.

That’s what war is - the wholesale torture and mistreatment of our brothers and sisters. 

When Grandad had returned to the states and joined my Grandma and Mom they lived in a a tiny RV.  Mom has told me all kinds of stories about that small trailer park near downtown Charlotte including playing in a church yard.  The building was built from large stones and it had a rod iron fence around it.  She also met Faye.  Faye and my Mom have been inseparable since those days.  They have remained the closest of friends and still talk several times a week.  Grandma and her sister Ruby had worked at the munitions factory and often told of writing messages to Grandad just in case he got the munitions that they had worked on.

The Military Detachment at his funeral gave a flag to my Mom and one to her younger brother.  I’ve never  ever heard of that.  This is a testament to his amazing service.

Mom graduated in 1958 from North Mecklenburg High School.  She was a model and had some professional dancing on her resume too.  That should not come as any surprise to those that know her.  She met my Father and they got married.  Their first child died at birth.  My dad took care of the body and my Mother said she was never given the opportunity to see him.  They had to name the baby so that a death certificate could be issued.  They chose Robert Angel Bradley.  The first name of their Fathers.

The next baby was born in 1961.  He lived, but tore my Mom up terribly.  She and Tim (Truman Mack Bradley, Jr.) had to stay in the hospital three months.

It’s kind of amazing to think that she was healed enough to then get pregnant with me.  She went into labor early while she, my Grandma and Tim were out to lunch.  She thought she was having contractions but wanted to keep it a secret.  I suppose she just wanted to enjoy the time.  When her water broke my Grandma took over and got her to the hospital.  They were afraid for her to deliver naturally so they did a C-section cutting my ear in the process.  We were in the hospital for a month and I weighed 5lbs 3 ounces.  Mom says that it was like holding a bag of sugar.  I’m sure my Dad was afraid for Mom and I both.  

We’ve been through a lot these past 57 years (I’m writing this at 1:02am on my birthday some 11 hours before I turn 58).  One thing I could always count on was my Mom.  She’s always been there to hold my hand, to encourage me, to discipline me when needed, to help make decisions and so many other things.  She has been proud of me too.  When I made the Ice Capades she had an autograph party at Davises (the little juke joint bar she worked at).  I was embarrassed but I complied.  When I went to get my medical clearance from the OB-GYN he refused me because I couldn’t stop bleeding.  He told me “You have to choose now at age 19 do you want to skate, or do you one day want a chance of having a child?”  i chose my daughter who would come along 10 years later and in whom I couldn’t be more proud and so very thankful for.

There have been so many challenges in these 57 years.  There has also been amazing opportunities.  One achievement after another not the least of which is skill in writing.  The one theme that has woven itself throughout my life is the absolute knowing that ‘I can’.  This is because of my Mom.  She never doubted anything that I undertook.  

So as I face the next year of my life I do so with appreciation for all of those that have gone before me.  Feeling them holding me up when I’m weak, pushing me forward when I want to quit and praying when I’m unable to.  Offering inspiration as I make decisions.  Showing me how to thrive in the face of adversity.  How to apply myself to learn and keep learning.  How to show charity when the recipients are the least deserving.  How to believe in tomorrow and expect the best from humanity.  How to climb over the piles of disappointment to get to the ‘what’s next’.  To appreciate nature and share it with others and to actually share what I have with anyone in need.  She also taught me to be positive regardless of the circumstances because dawn always comes and a rainbow is a promise of a better future and a certainty of a loving Heavenly Father.  

Help somebody if you can.  Hold out your hand when it’s needed.  Remind people of what America is when their memories want to forget.  Give a hungry person food.  Offer a coat to someone who is cold.  Teach our children so that there is a chance that history won’t indeed repeat itself.

Live or Die?

 I had to become comfortable with living after my ‘death’.  Yes, I realize that I’m alive and this is a hook of inquisition that I hope will keep you reading.

In 1994 I was on top of my game.  I was the fifth highest mortgage loan originator for the third largest bank in the nation.  I had worked hard, really , really hard.  It often took nearly 7/24 attention.  I started trading Sunday stillness and sanctity to support a REALTOR in their open house endeavors.  Back in those days everyone attended the infamous Tuesday morning sales meetings and then we would go off to see everyone’s new listings.  I got the bright idea of providing lunch at a new listing every single week.

It worked.  I would have so many people I sometimes ran out of food.

That Tuesday I had food left over.  I stopped by my Great Aunt’s house to leave some for them.  They weren’t home.  So I headed home for a well deserved rest.

it happened so fast.  

Our eyes locked.

The paleness of shock of certainty hit us both instantaneously.

Then there was a crash.

I knew that I had to hold the car.

She hit me so hard that the passenger side door handle was resting over the hand brake.

I was vaguely aware that she had started spinning.  I later learned that she was a 16 year old driver who had wrecked her car the day before and her Father, a successful dentist, bought her another car the night before.  She had floored the gas rather than the brake.

The Ford emblem was laying nearly in my lap.

Blinding, nearly indescribable pain shot through my body.  It was hard to breath.  It was hard to see.  It was nearly impossible to move.

And so began my death.

I fought to keep my ‘succesfull’ life.  I did everything I was asked to.  All the therapy.  All the tests.  All the surgeries.  All the modalities.  God had other plans.  Looking back I can now see his wisdom at work.

I had a lot of help because I was a patient at the Rehabilitation Hospital of Carolinas Medical Center.  it took three years of cognitive rehabilitation to relearn to read and comprehend on an 8th grade level.  That was, initially, a huge nuclear bomb attack to my ego.  Then I realized the genius of it.  God had other plans.  

We looked for two years for what my cognitive strengths were that remained.  I was sent to a college Economics class, one of the very few courses that I hadn’t had.  I absolutely couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t comprehend.  I couldn’t remember.  I simply couldn’t LEARN.  I cried.  I rebelled.  I lived within a fog of disbelief.  My Mom told me to get my education because it was something nobody could take away from me.

Really ???????????

That prophetic statement I think is what kept me trying.  My Mom was always truthful with me, sometimes even brutally so.  She laughed when I went to her work after my first Calculus test at UNCC.  I was crying uncontrollably because I had “FAILED” first test.  I had made a 96.  Yes a NINETY SIX.

I had fractures all over my body.  The inner fascia  was ripped - it felt like what I could imagine a chicken could feel as you pull their skin off the meat.  it hurt.  It really, really hurt.  My chest was black.  Every movement sent waves and currents of pain through every cell in my body.

My synaptic  dendritic connection seemed to be a wiring that allowed the ripples of pain to intensify.

I damaged three lumbar discs and two cervical discs.

Perhaps the ‘worst’ injury was the brain injury - or to be accurate the two brain injuries.   I was determined to reclaim everything.  So I started a two year Associates program in Children’s Writing, which then led to my PhD in Journalism.  Writing is just easy for me.  Words just flow.  I’m thankful.

I was so sick for so many years.  They couldn’t figure out why and just assumed it was the brain injuries.  I took SEVEN years for them to do exploratory abdominal surgery - and it was a friend of mine who finally agreed to do it.  My ribs had punctured my gall bladder and it was stone hard.  When I woke up in recovery I immediately knew that they had found the problem because i felt SO MUCH BETTER - imagine that, feeling better after anesthesia than before anesthesia.

MS was triggered by the trauma and while I’m mostly in remission I’m still numb on my left side sort of like a novocain shot that is almost worn off.  At first I had to use a wheelchair.  then I went to a power scooter and eventually a walker with a seat.  So the fact that I can now ride a bike is pretty awesome to me.

But all of this was to get to this next part.  MIGRAINES.  OMG.  they are awful.  I thought surely it was my brain injuries  causing flashing lights, blinding pain and darkness to come over my eyes.  In order to fully understand I must tell you about the day the adhesion was broken.

i was in the therapy room and two folks were working on my broken body.  The axis and atlas was dislocated but pulled back I suppose by the tendons.  The therapy that particular hour was to work on getting as much range of motion for my neck as possible.  Suddenly there was an audible ‘ripping’.  I have NEVER felt pain like I did in that moment.  I absolutely couldn’t talk.  My jaws wouldn’t work.  But I did cry - very telling because I was kind of legendary for not crying no matter what they did to me.  There is absolutely no way I would even begin the thought of wanting even my worst enemy to even experience to a tiny level.

I was quickly surrounded by 6 more therapists.  They were trying to get me to talk, but I couldn’t.  The head therapist got there pretty quick and had them pack my head in crushed ice - it felt good.  She told them to stop trying to get me to speak.  After about 30” of icing I was given a pencil (and you wonder why I hate a regular pencil???????) and a pad of paper where I wrote what I was feeling.

So began my love of yoga.  It was the only thing that could give me a sliver of relief.  I rarely miss a day.  I also have a special pillow - and my Mom bought one for my Grandmother too.  I have hers ready for when I must give up the one I’ve used for so long.

It took the trauma neurologist five years, FIVE YEARS, to come up with a medication cocktail that allowed the headache to live just under the surface.  I even went into minor liver failure once because of the mix of medications that I was asked to try.  I’ve submitted to numerous nerve block injections.  I RARELY ask for that anymore.  

that’s why I was excited to learn about the DAITH piercing.  Yes - I had it done ten days ago.  I bled profusely for 9 straight hours.  I started to go to the ER, then it occurred to me to look at the ingredients in Excedrin Migraine.  325mg of Aspirin.  So I prayed, and I held ice on my ear and it finally stopped.  It hurt like HELL (and I usually don’t cuss) but it was so very WORTH it.  Mom hasn’t said anything, but I know intuitively that she doesn’t approve.  Good thing she wasn’t here to see the bleeding LOL.

I think the reason I was compelled to write this was to say this - walk a mile in someone else’s skin before you judge them.  We all have things happening that we don’t talk about.  We all have disappointments and challenges.  The best course is to do all we can to not focus on these things but rather accentuate the positive.

So - if you see my face twitching, don’t worry it’s just the nerves misbehaving from the injuries.  If you see me kneading my neck - don’t worry I’m just trying to loosen it up.  If you hear my neck pop - don’t worry it’s normal.

Be careful what you give to your children.  The young driver lost her license for ten years.  Was it enough?  I hope so.  I hope she found a way to make it ‘worth’ it.  Oh, I just realized I didn’t tell you that because she had floored the gas instead of the brake she went into a spin.  that’s how she hit me twice and she landed in a deep ditch which is the only thing that stopped her car.

Often our decisions impact others adversely.  Will you think of all that I deal with every second of every hour of every day and every night before you judge someone?  I would consider it a favor.

respectfully requested by Soaring Eagle Heart.