I'm taking a memoir-writing class. My posts for the next few weeks will be the class assignments. I'm compelled to add a disclaimer for the benefit of my writer friends that these are early drafts, and I promise to edit and polish them mercilessly before compiling and shipping them off to all the major publishing houses and await the many 6-figure offers that are sure to pour in.

The first assignment was to write two pieces inspired by a list of topics we brainstormed in class.

Aunt Ruby

Every Christmas, we anticipated the big package from Aunt Ruby. Among all the toys and clothing packed inside, was always at least one thick, red and white striped candy cane. Mom would hand it to Dad who would take it off to the kitchen and hammer it into bite-sized pieces for my two older brothers and me to share. I didn't really like the taste of peppermint, but I was always excited to get one of the jagged pieces to suck on.


With Ruby's slender frame and large round slightly protruding eyes, she bore a resemblance to Olive Oyl. Her high-pitched voice, laced with a mid-western drawl was always a source of teasing from her young niece and nephews.

Ruby was Mom's younger sister. Only 18 months apart in age, they shared a close relationship.

We always enjoyed Aunt Ruby's visits. Every few years she would fly out from her home in Dallas, where my mother's family grew up. I remember waiting in the terminal for her flight to land. We all craned our necks and peered out the large windows trying to spot her as she stepped off the plane onto the portable staircase in line with the other passengers.

Back then airline passengers dressed up for flights. Aunt Ruby usually wore a slim suit, matching hat and bag. Her job in the gift wrap department at Neiman Marcus required that she dress stylishly. Since none of the adult women I knew at that time had jobs, I considered Aunt Ruby very worldly.

One year Ruby brought a good friend with her on the trip. She and Rosa stayed in a hotel in San Francisco on that visit. I remember hushed conversations filled with innuendo between mom and dad about the men Rosa and Aunt Ruby met in the City.

From time to time, mom and dad would pack us all up and drive back to Dallas to visit the family. One such trip took place when I was about 12 years old.

This trip was special to me because Aunt Ruby took me to Neiman Marcus for a fashion show and luncheon. I felt grown up, sitting at the table with my Aunt, waiters bringing our luncheon to our table, refilling my ice tea whenever I took a sip. I remember hesitating over the salad drenched in poppy seed dressing. I wasn't sure what to do in this fancy setting with a plate of food in front of me that didn't taste good.

"You don't like the dressing, do you?" Aunt Ruby observed. "That's okay. You don't have to eat it."

Over the years, I remember hearing mom and dad talk about Ruby's troubled marriage. Roy was a rich cattle rancher who lavished her with gifts. I remember her showing off a solid gold brooch in the shape of a longhorn steer. Though divorce was considered shameful back then, mom and dad seemed to understand that the beatings made this one unavoidable.

Ruby finally found her true love, Billy, a simple farmer who owned land some distance from Dallas. Her marriage to Billy turned her from a high-class woman to a farmer's wife. She seemed to enjoy her life, though she seldom had the money to visit anymore.

Mom paid for a couple of her trips out. On these trips her attire was much different. Certainly air travel had become more commonplace by the mid-90's and the dress code had relaxed considerably. But Ruby had changed, too. She was no longer the bon vivant I remembered from my childhood. Her clothing was casual, almost tattered, her hair no longer perfectly coiffed, and her belly had begun to protrude.

She always seemed to have a beer in her hand. And wherever mom planned to take her -- to visit me or one of my brother's families, Ruby always took a six-pack along.

Mom finally got fed up with Ruby's drinking, and refused to pay for her flights. We heard that she had become ill from the alcohol, was hospitalized for a time, and had quit drinking. Then we heard that she was drinking again.

Ruby found a way to finance one last trip to visit after mom was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease. She stayed with my husband and me for a couple of nights, then with my brother's family. Mom only let her visit for a short time.

I felt sorry for my aunt, who only wanted to be close to her favorite sibling, and probably her best friend in the world. Ruby seemed satisfied that she had at least had a chance to see mom one more time.

Ruby died a few years later from complications of alcoholism. Her adoring Billy cared for her until the end.