Our Phonebook

Phonebooks come in all shapes and sizes and our reaction to their contents are based in pure emotions. We used to carefully choose where we wanted to put those treasured numbers --from the little black book to my own pink leather number. Before we started using our phones for phonebooks, those you hold in your hand and write into could get really tattered. Take the case of my old friend Sammy Davis Jr. His phone book had pages falling out of it and looked like an elephant had stepped on it. And guess what, on ebay right now Sammy Davis's beat-up phone book is up for auction with an opening bid of 8,000. wish I had a spare 8k and I'd buy because Mr D. is still so inportant to me, although he's been dead 20 years now. When it first went up for auction, a friend of mine called me up to stay Sam's phone book was up on eBay and "Hey, Ruth, your name and number is in there." Sammy is still in my pink book. Oddly enough, I can't seem to erase anyone who is in there, even if they've been gone for a long time. Ray's private number is in there and that number is finally no good. They disconnected it a whole two years after his death. Hitting a delete button on the phone is a lot easier than erasing or blocking out a number on a page. I just looked through my book and so help me there is somebody under each page of the alphabet that is not good any longer. It speaks to the truth of my lawyer friend Jeffrey who said, "Face it Ruth, we are at a time of our lives that we go to more funerals than weddings!" Well having said that, let me encourage all my 'old' friends to go marry somebody, I'll come to the wedding and your new phone number with go into the pretty pink phone book of Ruth Adkins Robinson

Ruth Hasn't Been Writing

Sorry my friends, I've been extra nuts lately and writing so much that I haven't had time to write for myself. But I'm back. My target is five times a week to talk about what I'm doing, thinking, wishing and dreaming. Here's some bullet points of writing assignments RIGHT NOW. I'm doing the package for honoree Keenen Ivory Wayans Entertainment Icon award at the American Black Film Festival. I'm writing the show for the Heart & Soul Awards next month in DC. I am working like a maniac trying to pull all the elements together for my exhibit opening at the California African American Museum July 14, called "Women: Game Changers, Less Known, Here Celebrated." Seventy women in ten categories including She Heals, She Got Game, Sisters-in-Arms, Museum Women, High Flyers, Mavericks...and more. The number of women who have achieved amazing things surprises Ruth Adkins Robinson.

Oh My Gobble, Gobble

Ok, so when was the last time you ate stuffing/dressing or whatever you personally call it? I think the last time for me was last Christmas. Why is that? I like stuffing, but I never prepare it. I suppose that would be because I eat enough of it between Turkey Day and Dec. 25 that I use up my stuffing allocation for the year. We have a big family so the last of the left-overs are gone except for one lone bowl of dressing, with the mushrooms and chili peppers sitting there waiting. Ok, so I did it and now I have made my usual vow of going on a diet tomorrow. I had this thought that if I could lose one-eighth of a pound for every time I have vowed to go on a diet tomorrow, I would be anorexic. So here I sit the stuffed with stuffing Ruth Adkins Robinson.

Invisible Me

Yesterday I was sitting with a publicist who believes she can do great things to brand me and make me more visible. The trick here is that I don't want to be visible. A long time ago, I think about the time Ray and I were running through hotel lobbies, I realized that I didn't want people to be able to recognize me on sight. Ray couldn't get anywhere for people rushing up to him to ask for his autograph. Too often, I would snap, "Please, He doesn't sign autographs." Of course not, he was blind, but that seemed impossible for so many people to believe. In fact, there are 'official autographs' of Ray Charles for sale on eBay, which are sooo not official. I think Joe Adams used to sign things and send them off. But I'm wandering. I know there are many people who seek the limelight, but not me. I just basically want to write and be left alone so I'm decling the notion to get branded. I'm the invisible Ruth Adkins Robinson.

cowards behind email

Today I learned someone had been posting malicious things about a friend of mine, even going so far as to set up a gmail account in his name. After I read through some of the posts, I realized I knew who this was. Now the dilemma is --what do I do about it? Do I let her know that I know? Do I expose her to our friends? Do I tell him? Now I love the internet but suddenly, coldly, I realize how dangerous it can be. I'm a big girl and can take what comes --face to face, but how do fight a bundle of anonymous lies like this bitter old two faced woman is posting? What if she turns her vitroil towards me, hiding behind the blinking cursor like the coward she is. Anybody got an ideas on this one?

Freegan Me?

I've been watching the Freegan Movement for about a year now, since it poked its head up out of the dumpster and onto the news cycles. When you first hear about it, you think oh my god, half eaten sandwiches drug out of the garbage! that's nasty. That part is nasty, but that's not what this is all about. I watched a segment on "Oprah" (shut up, it was the last night repeat and the tv was just on) and I left it on when they said, coming up: The Freegans. Lucy Lui, the broadcaster, went around with one of the groups and drug enough "to feed a small country" out of the garbage from behind supermarkets and restaurants. It was odd to see all that wrapped up, in perfect condition food, thrown out. But here's the part that really interested me. A middle-aged professional woman making a six figure salary and a doctor husband and engineer wife team who lived their entire lives in support of Freeganism (did I make up a word?). The couple had furnished their apt with cast offs from the trash and ate most of their meals (sometimes from 'mystery' cans with no labels. With all earnestness imaginable, they explained why. But what resonated with me are the questions "How much do we need to buy to make us happy?" "If we didn't work that second job, could we spend more time with our children?" and others of that ilk. I have too much stuff (sometimes I think I have the hoarder gene) but I've taken a vow to consume less. I will not be buying any new clothes for the next YEAR. I'm going to wait a second before I throw food away and I'm about to give away tons of things. I'd say I will have a garage sale, but that would be a lie. I am going to take a bunch of clothes to my Military Women's Shelter. Maybe other junk in here as well. I'm going to try to be the freegan Ruth Adkins Robinson

I'm Back

I took a break to give myself a think or two. I wondered for a while if I was just spilling my guts on here, for no good reason and for no one else's enjoyment. But I've been told by the people who were reading it that I should get with it once again, so I'm going to do that. Beginning tomorrow, you will see a once a week post from Ruth Adkins Robinson