Showing posts with label Spencer Turnage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spencer Turnage. Show all posts

Saturday, March 18, 2017

Ruby by Cynthia Bond - An Oprah's Book Club Selection...



Ephram Jennings had seen the gray woman
passing like a haint through the center of town
since she'd returned to Bell land in 1965. All
of Liberty had. He had seen her wipe the spittle
from her jerking lips, run her still beautiful
hands over the crust of her hair each day before
she'd turned the corner in view of the two. He'd
seen her walking like she had some place she
ought to have been then five steps away from
P & K Market, stand pillar still, her rain cloud
body shaking. Ephram had seen Miss P, the
proprietor of the store, walk nonchalantly out
of her door and say, "Honey, can you see if I
got the rise in these rolls right?"
Ephram watched Ruby stare past her but take
the brown sack filled with steaming yeast bread.
Take it and walk away with her acres of legs
carrying her, while Miss P said, "You come on
back tomorrow, Ruby Bell, and help me out
if you get the chance."
Ephram Jennings had watched this for eleven
years. Seen her black-bottomed foot kick a
swirl of dust in its wake. Every day he wanted
nothing more than to put each tired sole in his
wide wooden tub, brush them both in warm
soapy water, cream them with sweet oil and
lanoline and then slip her feet, one by one
into a pair of red-heel socks.
But instead, with each passing year...he sat
alongside the crowd of men parked on their
stools outside P & K...They had all watched,
steadily, as she slipped into madness...
~~~
When I first saw the title of this book, I immediately thought of a story by my dear online friend, Spencer Turnage, who I still miss after his death.  I shared a story he had written entitledMiss Ruby. 


Click to Read Miss Ruby


As I read the story by Cynthia Bond and met Ephram, I realized that my vision of Spencer matched the personality of the male main character. Ephram was a good man...

It's taken me a week to read this book. At times, the content got to be so overwhelming that I had to stop reading. This is an extremely dark book and I urge you to read other reviews--pro and con--if you have not yet read the book. As the heading says, this is the
latest book selected for the Oprah Book Club. While I recognize that it is very well written and certainly deserves a top rank and undoubtedly has a place in Black History, I still find that I could not wholeheartedly recommend it to all readers...unless you are willing to confront the powerful, dark images that will grow worse as the story moves forward. If it were not for Ephram and the relationship he began with Ruby, I would have stopped reading altogether.
In fact, it seemed that only one other individual in town--Miss P who ran the local store, had an ounce of goodness! The town of Liberty certainly was not filled with individuals free...to be...in the light...



Ruby
By Cynthia Bond

Ruby had lived in Liberty when she was young and it was then that Ephram had first saw and loved her. That was when he was 11. By that time, Celia, Ephram's older sister and he were more or less on their own, including having been banned at that time from attending the church in which they were raised. (Since Oprah supports the book, she's the one who stars as Ruby...)

"You got da mystic star. There,"
She took her other hand. "There
too. Lord child you ain't nothing but
a doorway. How many haints you
count at your heels?"
Ruby stopped dead. It was the first
time anyone had seen. It meant she
couldn't pretend it was a game anymore,
or a piece of a bad dream. Finally she
answered, "Three."
~~~
Ephram had gone fishing when Maggie Wilkins had brought Ruby down near the lake.

He had just finished eating and was sitting with his pole when he spotted them--Maggie Wilkins and the quiet little girl beside her. They were across the lake. The girl tiptoed and leaned in, her nose almost touch Margaret's cheek. She was caramel brown with her hair up and fancy, grown-up eyes in a heart-shaped face...
Just as he thought of retreating into the brush, he saw the quiet girl pointing in his direction. Maggie turned fiercely and cut her eyes at him. "What you staring at?" she called from the lake...
                                                           ~~~

It was during that first meeting that they went on to see Ma Tante. Ephram's father had said "she was the Devil's midwife and stitched evil into night's coattails. The Reverend had preached for his congregation to stay away. But when anybody needed her services, they chose not to pay heed to their Reverend's advice.

The one with the oval lodestone tied
on its back--was for Ruby. 

~~~
Ma Tante had made them each a gris-gris, but somehow, Ruby's had been held for all these years by Ephram... I wondered, if Ruby had held on to it, whether she would have gone through what she had... But, later, it was taken from Ephram and buried deep in the ground, never to be found again.

Useless, Ma Tante thought. To give them the gris-gris she'd made. What difference could it make? Didn't have the juice time would have fed them. She'd made them up quick when she'd smelt the children coming through the rain. Couldn't stop nothing. Still, it was a sin not to paddle your boat, even in a lake of fire. So, into each hand Ma Tante put a teeny black doll...no bigger than a child's pinkie.

It was not long after that Ruby was taken from her home and established in a house where men could visit the young girls... Ruby got a quarter tip for each visit, which was held in a small bowl next to her bed. She was able to become friends with another little girl who quickly told her the ropes--in particular, that the tips were hers, but others would come to try to take them! They became close as sisters and sometimes were paired--they didn't mind since it was easier on both of them. At least until he came... He played the game of good girl versus bad little girl. Ruby became his good little girl and later watched as her friend was killed...

That was the first murdered child that she invited to enter her...

Ruby later learned that the man had paid for exactly what he had done...

Because of her great beauty, while Ruby was continued in prostitution, she later found females who would treat her better and dress her according to their status. Still, when she learned of the death of her childhood friend, she went home, still as beautiful as she had been there in New York. But as she made her way back to the Bell home, she was soon accosted by town men...but, more, by all of the little children who had been murdered in the woods surrounding her place. They rushed to her, seeking help...and a home. She soon was calling them her babies. And when a little one was finally able to feel safe and ready to leave this earth, Ruby would bury each one under a large  
china-berry tree, from which she would gain strength from, along with surrounding natural items, to deal with what was happening to her...Soon all of her clothes and other items she had brought from New York were stolen and her mind began to wander. She no longer took care of herself, nor her home and both became filthy. Men who would come for her would throw buckets of water on her, take her, and leave her where they had been, on the ground...
 Ruby whispered, softly to herself,
that there was nothing there,
just the coming evening. Still her
 skin tingled hot, her mouth dry
 as it crossed the space between
 them and pressed against her,
flattening her dress against her
chest, her legs.
~~~

But for all that Ruby had lost, there were many things she had found.
A rising growl that rumbled out of her belly. Drool that wetted her lips and slid down the angle of her jaw. A jerking, rhythmic contortion of her face. Because these often happened without her permission and in view of the town, Ruby found what it was to no longer be seen as human.
She discovered that she could hammer her pride so wafer thin that she could accept alms like a beggar.
Then, one late afternoon, Ruby found a new pitted terror, as she sat on her bed watching dust swim in the light. She heard the slow creak of the screen door, a flutter of sparrows outside. She listened as a cup of water on the kitchen table turned over, and a thin cascading splash, like a man urinating, poured onto the floor. Ruby waited--it would not be the first time someone had some unannounced. But instead of a man, she saw a weighted, umber thickness slide into the room.
It shifted, moving along the floorboards. It darkened the corners, adding mass to the shadows...Ruby did not know why she sat on the bed, then lay down, but the old curtains ruffled towards the window frame, not away. Then something fell upon her chest. The scent of a deal candle filled her, making it hard to breathe. When the mattress sank deeper, Ruby thought to scream, but whatever lay upon her whispered the creaks and groans of the house into her ear, it smoothed and relaxed her until she felt a soft pressure upon her groin...Ruby knew this was a Dybou--what Ma Tante had spoken of so long ago. A heat pulsed around her, then entered her. The house seemed to shake.
She spoke, but it was not Ruby speaking. In a low graveled voice she grunted, "Bitch," hot air escaping her lips, "Whore."

While things continue to get worse for Ruby, a breath of fresh air comes into the story when Ephram realizes that he can no longer pretend he does not care what is happening... He asks Celia, his older sister, to bake an angel food cake, which immediately sets her on alert, wanting to know to whom it was to be given...

After some interesting times with his protecting that cake, he finally gets it to Bell land where he finds Ruby outside... The gentle tenderness Ephram shares with Ruby is truly a beautiful thing and almost took away the bad feelings... but not quite. Because as more and more of the story is revealed, it gets even worse than what I've shared.

For me one of the saddest is that, while much of the story is centered around the church, there are very few characters, besides Ephram and Ruby, that serve to lighten the town's population.  Yet, how did Ephram reveal such goodness and love? By the time revelations about church members were finished, I felt that the story had gone too far in the exploration of the dark life of town members. Was it necessary to create such a divergent path between good and evil choices in order to emphasize the love story that ultimately developed? I will admit that the ending was almost a relief, with a satisfying ending. But what haunts me is the 98% dark story of lust, hate, murder and child abuse...

Perhaps the reality of the book in history as well as today's world is what scared me most of all...


GABixlerReviews




Studied journalism, won a PEN Fellowship, taught homeless youth, became a mama, wrote one 900 pg novel named RUBY, cut it into 3 books & managed to stay sane.

CYNTHIA BOND is a New York Times Best-Selling Author. Her novel RUBY was chosen to be an Oprah Book Club 2.0 selection. RUBY was also a Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers selection, and an Indie Next Pick. A PEN Rosenthal Fellow, Bond attended Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism, then moved to New York and attended the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. She founded the Blackbird Writing Collective in 2011. Cynthia has taught writing to at-risk and homeless youth for over fifteen years, and is on staff at Paradigm Malibu Adolescent Treatment Center. She is currently completing the second book in the RUBY Trilogy. A native of East Texas, she lives in Los Angeles with her daughter.

Please note that I found the interview with the author to be of value in better understanding the book... https://aboutkatebraithwaite.wordpress.com/2014/06/04/qa-with-cynthia-bond/

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Heaven Called My Friend Spencer Home...

Heaven Came and Called My Friend Spencer Home...

I shared this two years ago and today when I pulled up his sharings with me and others,
this is the first one that came up...earlier I had just opened Facebook and in the friends section, 
I noticed his picture and felt the need to click it...

To learn that Spencer Turnage had died...

My heart jolted and I cried...for a man I had never met in person...now, maybe someday... 
in the future, he will hug each of us in welcome as we join him where he now rests...

I had met him on Gather quite a number of years ago and then continued online 
interaction here on Facebook. During that time, he had lost his wife and much of his poetry 
told of that loss... Many of his Gather friends "gathered" around him...




Now he's saying goodbye...and I don't want to see him go...


He shared so much in his poetry...had all the women swooning...LOL...
But he  shared himself with us, always a true and gentle man
Who happened to be able to share his feelings and love to all of us...


I shall miss you much, my friend Spence.....You're now sheltered in the arms of 
His Greater Love!


Glenda





Love My Grits

Grits, they say with a start
as if they are a foreign treat
I love to have them with other food
in deeming them very good to eat.

Could care less when they react
like when they turn up their nose
Seems they never gave them a chance
but I can only guess or suppose.

I like grits as a side dish
often add a few chunks of cheese
and no matter what they have to say
they go down slow and with such ease.

You go a head and laugh
I'll enjoy my grits to a tee
whenever you refuse to a new taste
imagine grits are a pleasure to me.

Del Cano April 20, 2009

Grits and Bear 'em!

I well remember that first time
Grits were placed there in my face
It was eggs over easy I liked fine
But these eggs set in my place?!

Eggs over easy to my way of thinkin'
Was eggs turned over keeping the yellow soft
But these eggs were sliming and slinkin'
O'er half my plate, running buff!

Movin' toward what looked to me
Thrown up milk from one of my kitties
It merged with the slimy runny eggs
Whole plate was white, was this just a tease?

Taking a chance I peeked at my sis
But she was talking and eating fine
Scrambled eggs and toast, heavenly bliss
All I could wish, that plate was mine!

Looked across the table, friend noticed me
Do you know what that is, I was asked.
Shaking my "no" begging her "please?"
"Why that there's grits, dear, corn that's smashed!"

In a public restaurant, my Mom would' ve said "eat"
But with those runny eggs and rambling corn
Not getting sick would be my great feat!
I sat back on my chair, hungry, forlorn...

Just then our waitress must have saw my face
"Not done 'nuf, honey? No grits for you today?"
Almost in tears, I nodded with grace
"Scramble them please, and grits? No Way!"
G. A. Bixler, April 30, 2009
~~~
Thanks so much for all who shared their poetry. When Spencer sent me this one, I just knew I had my own story on grits to tell! I was my sister's "model" when she took her test for beauty school. We were having breakfast on the first day...all her friends who were going to be tested and their models. There were about ten sitting around a big table and I was the youngest. I can still remember my feelings when I had that plate set in front of me. I knew I shouldn't make a fuss, and the school was paying for our meal so I felt I should eat it...
Well, Spencer, seeing those running grits invading those slimy runny eggs...put me off grits...for life! And I think of that time every time my sister, Dee, and I go out to eat breakfast and she orders...grits... Not for me, Please!
~~~



The Skin I'm In


This is the skin I was put in
I was not given any choice.
Everyone else has words to say
while denying me my voice.

When I do speak my experience
they take the right to call me wrong.
How in hell am I supposed to grow
when hearing such a conflicting song.

This is the skin I was put in
predetermined before I was born
yet, I am often viewed with malice.
as if I had some devilish horns.

I am judged before I am known
strictly due to the skin I'm in.
Ignoring many human facets
which to me seems more like sin.

This is the skin I was put in
long before I could form ideas.
You who condemn my existence
owe me time now and in arrears.

Del Cano March 10, 2009


~~~



If I Get Cold


If I get cold tonight

will you promise to keep me warm?

Do I snuggle under the blankets

or the comfort of your arms?

If the winds shift to cool

and storms draw down on me,

will you snuggle me close up

making it all less chilly?

If I get afraid of all the charges there

can I count on you to love me

keeping sweet scents in the air?

If I get cold tonight

I'll count on you without guilt

and wallow in the comfort of us

together under the quilt!


Del Cano - March, 2009


~~~

One more for those of us who liked the fire...
http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6957929086575807165#editor/target=post;postID=8658561235565838570


Keep Writing Your Poetry, Spence, When we get there, we'll have lots of time to catch up with our reading...

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Welcome Back To One of My Favorite Poets and Friends! Yay Spencer!

Near The Water
 
When life gets too heavy
and trouble taps my soul
I go visit near the waters
which play a soothing role.
 
When the rain comes pouring
drenches my emotional state
I go visit the flowing ripples
which helps keep me straight.
 
None can tell that voice
any better than I can
The hum of the river
calls out to this man.
 
Even the serenity of a lake
might sing a soft lullaby.
A spring-fed mountain stream
races cares goodbye.
 
Let me be near the waters
an ocean wave ebbing near.
Whispers messages from above
speaking directly in my ear.
 
Oh, I might carry my gear
rods, reels and lots of lures
Fishing is a by product
of my waterways tours.
 
Got to visit the waters
hear its whispered romance.
Knowing upon my visit
I get to have another chance.
 
Del Cano 2006 October

 



If Only For One Night


She kept saying,
"If only for one night".
Yet, after 25 years
she remained in sight.

So much time passed
though I had not seen
Life went by us
like on a video screen.

She kept on saying,
"if only for one night".
I didn't run her away
loved her with all my might.

Now that she's gone
though not out of sight.
It's me who keeps saying
"if only for one night."

Del Cano May 26, 2011






A Well Spring Of Emotions


There's a deep-seated need
in how I am craving you
perhaps a substitute of sorts
it penetrates me all thru. 
I have no idea all the reasons
but accept one as a fact.
Since having you in my life
my soul is coming back.

Feelings which I thought
had long been buried
now are springing up
like bouquets being carried. 

You touched something inside
a wellspring of emotions.
Now you have me smiling
with all the inner commotions.
 
Thank you, dear, I gotta say
feels like a new arising
how you reached in and touched
so very very surprising.
 
Life had done its thing
reeked havoc beyond knowing
till you came along with your love
spread it on me like snowing.
 
Del Cano



Spencer is an ongoing
contributor to Book Reader's Heaven!
I'm so happy to have him back, doing better
after recent surgery. Please extend thoughts
and prayers to my friend...

Find Spencer on Gather.Com and Facebook! 
He is not only a wonderful poet, but is an 
active community leader (in my book!)...




Saturday, August 7, 2010

Photo by Spencer... Behold His Touch!

When I saw this picture taken by Spencer Turnage, the first thing that came to my mind was...

"Heaven came down and Glory Filled my Soul..." (comments my own)





Used with permission