Ruby Tuesday.

I knew a woman named Ruby, in Iowa.

She stood about 4 ft 6.

Said she drove an 18 wheeler.

How is that possible?

She had some kind of special thingamabobs that allowed her to reach the pedals.

Ok.

But when I finally got to meet her Mom, she said:  “Don’t say anything about the truck, ok?”

Huh?

“She doesn’t like it when I drive.”

Ok.

So, she drove a little car around town, like it was a nascar.

When she sat in the driver’s seat, she was damn near invisible, but she zoomed through traffic like a crazed banshee.

We went to the race track one day.

She went up to bet every race.

And no matter which horse won, Ruby pulled out a ticket and said: “I won!”

Now, how does this happen?

Come to find out, Ruby would bet $2 on every horse in the race.

Yup.  A winner every time.

I think Ruby was a wannabe.

She was not comfortable being who she was, so she re-invented herself to fit the situation.

She worked the grave yard shift, from 11 to 7am.

She said it was to avoid the drama.

I wonder about that.

I think she wanted to avoid reality.

She didn’t really want us to know who or what she was all about.

She could hide from life in that all night shift, dreaming about the life of Walter Mitty or in this case, Ruby Tuesday.

As I moved on, I lost track of RT.

I wonder if she ever found herself, or at least allowed her friends to love her as she was, the 4ft 6 dreamer, who wanted so badly to be admired and loved.

She lived in a fantasy world.

As so many of us do.

And the truth is, that if we find the courage to be ourselves, whatever that is, is enough.

While the tragedy remains: We live to impress others, and lose ourselves in the process.

 

Wolf

 

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