Happily Ever After

Gourd Santa and Mrs Claus
ornaments, author's designs

I like being married; been down that aisle 3 times so far:  two divorces; one heart attack.  Followed up by my longest relationship to date (twelve years-plus), which went bust a couple-ago.

This morning I realized that it’s not marriage, per se, which I’ve bought into; it’s the Happily Ever After part I heard goes-with.

Weddings came to mind this morning as I listened to the Lay-Away ads, especially from jewelers:  for Christmas, for Birthdays, for Anniversaries.  What else goes literally hand-in-hand with I Do?

Pal Annette's son,
Carlito with Jessica

Big, splashy engagement and wedding ring sets were never my experience; I had plain bands with inscriptions.  I never cared so much about displaying Conspicuous Consumption, but one thing I still hope to acquire during my lifetime is what I call my Big Person’s Ring.

All my rings are dainty things which a schoolgirl might wear.   An Opal from Dad; a pinky initial ring; and my mock-wedding ring with three diamond chips, which I wear on my left ring finger now, from the Black Hills of South Dakota.  Dated a jeweler during one vacation to Mt. Rushmore and got it wholesale.

But one Christmas-time back in the early ‘90’s, when I was a buyer in Manhattan, my vendors all gave me gift certificates for my favorite store, which everybody knew:

Macys.  One draftsman used to stop by my cubicle and sing, ala Ray Charles, “Ma-cys, Ma-cys,”  Those were my flush, single days, when many payday evenings I’d head for the big M, Short-People’s department.

That year I got $900 in certificates.  No, those weren’t bribes; they were just really nice people.  I’d always wanted a sapphire…the color…and eagerly anticipated being able to buy one.

Unfortunately, my allowance could only purchase a sapphire with a couple of diamond chips of equal size.  More dainty rings; that won’t do, I said.  What do you have that’s BIG?

 This Garnet.  It was $980; I threw in the rest and that was that.

I brought the ring along when I moved on the boat, wearing it once or twice over the years.  One occasion was over Joey and Gayle’s hill-top compound, a favorite place to take visiting boaters and guests.  They love people and throw great parties, especially New Year’s, when Joey roasts a pig on the spit.

“I’ve seen you before,” one stranger said to me.  You’re drunk; we’ve not met.  “No, you volunteered for PBS a couple years ago; a pledge drive (in Portland); I remember your ring.”

Now, I swear I had not mentioned that long-distant volunteer gig to anyone, not even my Captain.  Why would I?  After asking and asking how he knew that insignificant detail, I finally walked away dumbfounded.  He must have a photographic memory, people said.  Still, pretty freaky to me, and I avoided him thereafter.

Captain Stan's new face; easier than
trying to cut him out completely

Over time I lost one diamond chip and the band broke in the back.  I had it re-sized back in New Jersey, as a birthday present to myself shortly after my other breakup.  But the prongs were worn, and shortly after the ring photo was taken, the stone fell out sometime while I was out.  “Take it back,” Mom advised, but the jeweler had brought the fact to my attention and said I would need to have it remounted, or whatever.  Not wanting to spend more money at the time, here’s another example of,

“For want of a nail…”

It fit with the trauma at the time.  Here in Oregon, rock collecting is a big things, so I thought perhaps I’d eventually find a stone to replace the garnet.  Right; a rock would look real nice.  Earlier this year, out of necessity, I visited a traveling pseudo-Antiques Roadshow-ripoff and hocked some old trinkets, including the remnants of this ring.

I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere; all I know is I still pine after my Big Person’s Ring.  Everyone else over 18 seems to have one; hope springs eternal, and just like my Crayola crayons and Omaha Steak cooler (see earlier posts), more than likely I'll get the ring, too.  Eventually.

Every time I write I drudge up memories, sometimes painful, mostly pleasant.  I sure miss those Puerto Rican luau's; great times with good friends, some of whom have now passed away.  When our Czar was put down, one dilemma was where to bury Czar?  I wanted to have him cremated so we could carry him with, but it was not a common practice in Puerto Rico and they wanted $800, which would have been hard to justify, even if we had it.

Joey and Gayle practically have a zoo of their own, and allowed us to bury Czar on their property, where he remains.  Maybe there's no such thing as Happily Ever After...maybe Happy-for-As-Long-as-it-Lasts is good enough.