My mama named me Ruby, but I think she made a mistake. "Ruby" sounds like a soiled dove who followed the old West mining camps, or like a woman whose man begs her not to take her love to town, or like a white-haired waitress in a small town Texas cafe, pouring coffee and joking with her regulars. They all love her, that Ruby. And I am nothing like the sedate red jewel with hidden fire within i…