Jewelry Too Precious to Wear
My Grandmother had jewelry she felt was too precious to wear. She hid it away, locked up and safe. I have no memory of what it looked like. Was it beautiful? Graceful?
My mother, on the other hand, put a 10.00 price tag on a pinch-pot made by my baby brother at a yard sale in 1979. She said it was very precious and only someone who loved it enough to pay 10.00 should own it. (You may ask, why was she selling it at all? I’ll write another post about my mother’s psychology re. “ownership,” de-cluttering, and yard sales another time).
When I turned 12 my father brought me the most lovely gold chain with a sweet filegreed daisy and tiny green emerald – my birth stone. I lost it about a month later on the roller-coaster at Kings Island.
My mother and I tend to wear and enjoy things that are too precious to wear. And sometimes, we lose them.
Most of my favorite furniture I found on the street in NYC – a splayed-leg table and a washed aqua wardrobe. I remember my friend, Jennifer, putting her arm into a groovy jacket we found in a pile outside a fancy house with a sign reading, “Free.” Her finger came out adorned with a jeweled ring. And the owner of the house had long gone.
Here is jewelry that is truly too precious to wear:
Earrings made by Carmen for her sister, Juliet, out of Dum Dum wrappers.
My five year-old daughter made me a pair of earrings and a necklace. They blew away.
Wedding Photography by C. Borgman