Ruby's Confession
Fan Fiction based on Bobbie Gentry's song: "Ode to Billie Joe"
watch?v=tR97ITFD76M
The ride across the causeway to St. Simons Island always lifted my spirits. I rolled down the window a little to smell the sea air. I needed a bit of peace before making this pastoral care call, for the woman I was visiting was dying. Ruby was losing her battle with breast cancer, and had made the decision to forgo any further treatment. She had moved to St. Simons Georgia from Greenwood, Mississippi to live with her daughter Mary when she first started chemotherapy. It did not take her long to fall in love with the island folks and with our little Unitarian Universalist congregation in neighboring Brunswick. As I passed the docks with the beautiful boats and beautiful people, I wondered if Ruby would be able to make it back to any more services. And I wondered why she had asked that I come listen to her share a story, a confession she called it. We Unitarian Universalist ministers seldom hear anything like confessions because our folks generally don't worry about forgiveness and salvation. But confession is good for the soul, and I was going to provide Ruby with that opportunity.
Ruby's daughter Mary ushered me into her room downstairs. It had been a small family room, but they had converted it to a bedroom for Ruby since all of the other bedrooms in the large house were upstairs, and Ruby had been too week to climb them. Obvious attempts had been made to make her hospital bed seem less clinical, with a beautiful patchwork quilt of many colors surrounding Ruby as she sat prompted up on her pillows. Mary already had a little pitcher of lemonade and some cookies at the bedside table for us to enjoy during our visit. After a bit of chit chat asking me about my family members, Mary indicated that she had some housework to do and would leave us to "visit for a spell." I smiled at the language, glad that our common southern upbringings opened the possibility for us to use these favorite phrases.
Then I knew our task was at hand and said, "Ruby, I hear you have something you want to share with me. And I'm always glad to hear you share your stories."
"Well, this one is a little bit different," she said in a lowered voice. "And it's one you've sort of heard before from someone else – or least you've heard part of it."
"Oh, has Mary told me some of it?"
"No, not Mary," Ruby said as she shook her head with vigor. "Mary doesn't know."
"Oh, I said," realizing that this really was a secret confession. Mary and Ruby were very close, and I could not imagine Ruby keeping anything from her daughter. I also couldn't imagine anyone else telling me something about Ruby that Mary did not know, unless it was something that happened at church. Ruby set me straight about that idea though as she explained that the story came from her youth.
I took a sip of lemonade. "Well, let me hear it Ruby. I've got plenty of time." Here is what Ruby shared with me that day.
You know I grew in a rural area out from Greenwood Mississippi—actually lived there all of my life till I moved here. Oh, yes, I remember you telling me that you were familiar with that part of the country because you got your doctorate from Mississippi State. Well, you know it's a very conservative region - still is, but it certainly was when I was growing up. The McDonald's lived a few miles from us, up on Choctaw Ridge. And their boy and me, we were best friends as children. We'd meet in the middle between our farms and play. Our favorite thing was making mud pies near the edge of the river. My brother Johnny would come with us sometimes too, but he said our games and playing were too silly for boys. He'd tease Willie about it. And in fact, he teased so much that Willie quit playing as much with me, and started hanging out with Johnny more. He explained to me that he wanted to fit in with the boys – because he was a boy, but he enjoyed playing with me more. We would still meet at our special place and share what was going on in our lives. As I got older, Willie wanted to hear about my crushes and dates. And he would always grill me to pieces about my brother Johnny and whether or not he was dating anyone.
One day when I met him, I could see that he was bruised up pretty badly. He said that Johnny had gotten upset with him, but he wouldn't tell me what it was about. His eyes welled up and he said, "You know I love your brother." Well, that was kind of a funny thing for one boy to say about another – but I knew they were close, like brothers almost. I told Willie that Johnny probably rather have him for a brother than me for a sister. And Willie just shook his head. I asked him why Johnny had hurt him. But Willie said I wouldn't understand.
At the end of my junior year in high school I met Willie at our favorite place near the river and he was excited. He said, "I've decided to share something with you Ruby. I want you to know. Now that Johnny and I have graduated and I've saved some money from my job at the gas station, I'm going to ask him to go away with me."
"Why would you go way," I asked. "And why would Johnny go with you?"
"Because I love him. And I think he loves me. And we can't live here! He and I have been making love for a long time, and it's what I want."
"You've been making love? But you are both boys," I said. "I don't know what you mean." And I really didn't. Back then we just didn't discuss such possibilities. And besides, I kind of always liked Willie, and hoped that someday he would see me as something other than a friend. And now he was telling me he loved my brother! Plus, Johnny was going steady with Becky. I didn't know what or how to feel. Then he pulled out a letter that he had written and said he wanted me to give it to Johnny. It was a love letter, complete with more romantic language than I had ever read in one of those Harlequin romance novels. And then I understood.
"You can't do this!" I shouted. "You will ruin his life and your own life too. You're crazy. Do you know that?"
I grabbed the letter and started running. Willie caught up with me as I got to the bridge that crossed the river. He cried out that he couldn't live without Johnny. "Yes you can!" I exclaimed. "You will have to. I will never let you do this Willie. You will have to come to your senses." We both stopped in the middle of the bridge. Tears were in both of our eyes. We just cried and held each other for a while. Then I tore the letter in half. "Let's just throw this thing down into the Tallahatchie River," I said. And not bring this idea back up again. And we let that letter fall down to the muddy water below us.
Indeed we did not bring the idea back up again because I never saw Willie again. Two days later, on June 3, 1960, they said that Willie McDonald jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge. I knew better. I pushed him off. Not literally – but with my rejection of his love for my brother and my rejection of his sexuality – although I didn't even know that term then. In any case, I could have been the caring person who at least tried to understand. I was his best friend. And I let him down.
"Ruby," I interrupted as I touched her hand. "Is this the story that Bobbie Gentry told in her ballad?"
"Yes," Ruby said, "but she wasn't Bobbie Gentry when I knew her back in Greenwood. She was Roberta Lee Streeter. She changed her name for her singing career. I sure would never have shared anything about it with her if I had known she was going to write a song about it. She and I were good friends and I just shared my frustrations about how everyone was going on life as usual when we heard about it. Of course she changed our names. She changed Willie McDonald to Billy Joe McAllister – but folks in Greenwood knew who it was about. I had to hear that song over and over again back in 1967. You know it was a number one hit? And it won a Grammy too. She told me she had to write a song for the B side of what she thought was going to be her first record, and never thought that many folks would even hear it. She didn't know the whole story of course. I'm glad she didn't or she might have put the whole story in that song. I've had enough guilt to deal with all my life as it is."
I offered a little hug and said, "Ruby, you are a little bit older than me – not much though. And I know from my own experiences how things were back then. We were products of our time. We did the best we could. So you need to let that guilt go if you can, especially knowing how you've lived your life. I know your grandson Jeff is so very proud that his grandma supported him when he came out. And you've been an inspiration to us in our congregation, especially with your participation in the organization of our PFLAG chapter here in Brunswick. I've always marveled at your enthusiasm, especially for someone who has had to deal with illness. I assumed that your passion was due to your grandson's coming out – but I can see that you have more in your life that has made you who you are."
The tears began to glimmer in her eyes again, but they were accompanied by a smile. "Yes, I think you are right," she said softly. "And I do feel better now that I've told you about it."
"Ruby, can I say a little prayer for you?" I asked.
"Yes, I'd like that," she said.
I held both of Ruby's hands as we closed our eyes and I prayed:
Oh, Spirit of Life and Love, we connect today in your loving presence. Ruby has shared a story that is personal and touching. One that has burdened her heart for many years. We pray today that with the telling of this story, that burden is lifted. For even in the telling and the listening that we've done today, our own spirits have been lifted. Ruby has been such a blessing to her family, especially her grandson Jeff, and to our congregation and we love her so. My prayer is that our love will give her comfort and peace. And that she will know what a wonderful difference she has made and continues to make in our lives. May she be an inspiration to me and others so that we all may work together to end oppression and hatred of every kind. May we accept her gifts to us as that shining light that endures from generation to generation. And now, may that peace and love that is present here with the two of us today, inspire us to share it with others, till – like the old prophet said, "justice shall roll down like waters, and peace like and ever-flowing stream." Amen.
And Ruby said, "Amen."
And the reader says…
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