Ruby and Ruby

We drove back to the Arctic Tundra this past weekend to reunite with our previous neighbors.  They are an ornery couple, to say the least.  In their mid to late 70's, they're unwaveringly and unapologetically opinionated.  They have wisdom only someone of their age, lifestyle and caliber could possess and no matter what I say, I'm always wrong.  It's like my mother was a direct spawn of them.

Their names are George and Ruby. Typical snowbirds that they are, they came home from wintering on the beach one spring and came bounding over to our house to introduce themselves.  An instant connection was formed.  They don't have any grandchildren of their own, but they are the type of people where blood doesn't mean a thing.  My kids are their kids.  They call Jeremy son #2 (they already have one son) and I am their #1 daughter.  To us, they are Granma Ruby and Papa George. 

We love an adore them so much, we named our third child after them.  I had found the name Ruby from a movie.  It was the actress's actual name and I thought it was so very pretty.  I ran to Jeremy and said, What do you think about Ruby for a girl?  He said, Like, George and Ruby? I like it.  I said, I figure if we're going to name a baby with the same name as someone we know, why don't we name it in honor of them.  And there we have it, Granma Ruby and Baby Ruby.

To us, Ruby is Ruby is Ruby.  We love, adore and cherish her.  Whether we're talking about young or old, the feeling and sentiment are the same.  The way I see it, the world could always use another Ruby.