CAASPP Success - Grade 11 Reading Comprehension - Narrative #1

Ruby's [1] Ruby's Downhome Diner was an institution. If you only spent one night in Franklin, Texas, someone would inevitably direct you right off Highway 79 and Pink Oak Road to Ruby's Downhome Diner. Ruby’s, or The Downhome; whatever name the locals gave you, there was always something there that you would enjoy. [2] Ruby’s was named after Ruby Sanders, my grandmother. She had opened the diner with money she saved from cleaning houses and with personal loans from friends. By the time I was born, Ruby’s did enough business to pay off all debts and obligations. It didn’t take long before my grandmother was a person of considerable stature in and around Robertson County, just like the restaurant that bore her name. [3] Ever since I was knee-high, I spent each sweltering summer with my grandmother. This, truth be told, meant that for all practical purposes I lived at Ruby’s Downhome. Time familiarized me with all nuances within the diner; there were five steps and four ingredients that separated peach preserves from peach cobbler filling; Deputy Sheriff Walter Mayes preferred his eggs, always cooked over-easy, to finish cooking on the top of his ham before it was transferred to his plate; Mr. Arnold delivered the milk and the buttermilk on Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays; and there were days when I would need to go to the general store to pick up whatever was in short supply. By the time I entered high school, I could have run the diner from open to close if my Grandmother were absent, but she never was. [4] Perhaps the single greatest contributing factor to the success of Ruby’s Diner was the omnipresent personality of its namesake. Even the most hopelessly spun-around visitor who happened inside those doors would know who Ms. Ruby was. There were no sick days, vacations, or holidays. Between 5 a.m. and 9 p.m., you knew where Ruby Sanders could be found. If there were a sort of cell, then my grandmother was its nucleus; without the nucleus, the cell would surely perish. [5] The people who worked at Ruby’s were as dedicated as Ruby herself. There were the regulars: Del (short for Delmont) did double duty as a short-order cook and janitor, while Marlene and Deborah waited tables. Extra help would be hired from time to time depending on the season and individual need. No matter how long those extra helpers stayed, they and everyone else who worked at the Downhome were family, and no one ever fell out of touch. [6] Ruby’s did the things you’d expect a diner to do, as well as the things you wouldn’t. You could stop in and get yourself a nice cold drink for the road. Or you could pull up a stool at the counter and grab a steaming hot bowl of red pepper chili with a slice of corn pone or a dish of chilled and creamy homemade ice cream. Or better still, you could grab a booth and try any number of full-plate entrees made to order. But you could also order a wedding cake a week in advance, take a weekend course in food preparation, or, when the time came, have your whole catered event dignified by one of Ruby’s Downhome signature dishes. [7] When I was very young, I would spend most of my time exploring every inch of Ruby’s until the entire layout was printed indelibly in my mind. I could walk blindfolded from the basement where the dry goods were kept, up to the kitchen with the walk-in refrigerator chocked full of perishables, over to the main restaurant with row after row of booths and chairs and stools, well-worn but always cleaned after each patron had finished, and finally to the front porch, with its old wooden swing. I can see my grandmother moving from her station near the door to the kitchen, over to the counter and tables, and then back to the front again. Even now, I can see Del speedily making a double order of hash, Deborah picking up a generous tip, and Marlene topping off a customer’s sweet tea. Every summer sunset from that porch seemed to be more magnificent than the last. [8] As I got older, I took on more responsibility. There were fewer sunsets to watch and more work to be done. It was hard but never dull work. The company kept me coming back despite the increasing allure of summer football leagues and idle moments with friends or girls. After all, the woman who built Ruby’s was strong enough to make me forget those things, if only for the summer. I didn’t know that I would never return after my sophomore year of college, and for that, I am glad—I could not have asked for a better end to my long history at Ruby’s. It warms my heart when I think of the last memory of Ruby Sanders: tying her silver hair into a tight bun, hands vigorously wiping down tables with a rag, enjoying a story and a laugh as we closed for the night.