REJOICE
Another Daddy story for you. I don't know what this one means, but maybe I will know once I write it down.
About 25 years ago, my father's radio station was at the absolute pinnacle of its success. Nobody could touch them in ratings. To mark this era, the station's owner presented each of the department managers with huge, ostentatious gold rings which bore the company's logo. My father was the News Director, the wildly popular host of "TalkBack", and an overall celebrity in our corner of the world. He wore that ring with pride for many, many years.
Then the station was sold. Then there were management changes. Then there were content changes. And somewhere along the same time my father became completely disillusioned with the new company, the "old company's" logo spontaneously fell off the ring. He put the remaining empty signet ring in to Mum's jewelry box, and forgot about it, this once formidable symbol of his pride.
The summer that Brian was two, Daddy and Carleton came to visit my little family in Alberta. During that time, Daddy saw ammolite for the first time in his life. Ammolite is a precious stone which is actually a fossil, and in all the world it is only found in Alberta. It resembles a dark opal, always shifting colour in the light, and he was in love.
The following year, he returned to Alberta to visit me once more, this time with the naked signet ring in tow. And this is where the story really starts.
Together we consulted a jeweler, selecting the HUGE slab of ammolite to top off his ring. I spent a great deal of time turning that ring over in my hands during the design process. Daddy returned to New Brunswick before it was ready, so I was the one to pick it up and examine closely the resulting work, which I absolutely approved. I sent it to him by mail, and undoubtedly he and my Mum also spent a great deal of time examining the new ring when it arrived at their end.
Ammolite is also, unfortunately, quite brittle and fragile, and probably not the best material for a man's ring. Less than a year later, he mailed it back to me so that I could have the stone repolished to correct a significant chip. When it was ready, I once more examined it closely, but I'm sure that when in arrived in NB, my parents looked at it even more closely.
In the years that followed, my father wore that ring constantly; the only time, to my knowledge, that he ever took it off was when he had to stuff his hand up a turkey. He didn't value his ammolite ring as much as he did his wedding ring, but it was close.
And just like his wedding ring, he was wearing his ammolite ring the night he died. I remember the doctors pouring his jewelry and the few little things that had been in his pockets, in to my mother's hands as we tried to understand that Daddy was gone. I remember being back at the house, and Mum and I starting at this tiny pile of his possessions.
I remember several times over the last year when myself, my brother, my sister or my Mum would get out Dady's little things, including his ring, and simply hold it in our hands.
Two weeks ago, Mum and I took Daddy's ring to the jeweller. Because the ammolite was a memory only Daddy and I shared, she wanted to have it made in to a pendant for me. We turned it this way and that as the jeweler explained what he would do to it.
This past weekend, we received a message that the jeweler was going out of business, and asking us to pick up our pieces. He actually had FOUR family rings in his shop at that time, pieces which combined value more that $15,000 , so Mum and I HAULED ASS to pick them up. We immediately drove to another jeweler, explained our sad story, and started the design process AGAIN. As mentioned, there were four pieces: Mum wanted to have her 20th anniversary diamond ring and Daddy's wedding ring merged in to one piece. I wanted to have my Mummy's diamand and opal ring resized so that I could wear it year round, and not just during cold weather.
And then we turned to the ammolite ring, and explained we wanted it made in to a pendant for me. Because ammolite is so delicate, they couldn't use heat to remove it from the ring, they would have to use a saw to cut part of the ring base, but still leave some of the ring.
And while I was turning the ring over in my hands, trying to understand what the lady was saying, my heart stopped. I peered inside the ring and said, "Mum, when did Daddy have the ring engraved?"
"He didn't."
"Well, Mum, SOMEBODY did."
Inside the ring, in bold letter as big as Billy-be-frigged, was one word. REJOICE
Rejoice. Where did this come from? What does it mean? Was it really there, all those years, and neither Mum nor I SAW it? Is that possible? It's written all in caps, the entire width of this formidable ring. REJOICE
I really don't want to be the Crazy Cat Lady, but the reason I told you this long story was simply to illustrate that you'd think that either my Mum or I would have noticed this before. And we never did.
REJOICE
About 25 years ago, my father's radio station was at the absolute pinnacle of its success. Nobody could touch them in ratings. To mark this era, the station's owner presented each of the department managers with huge, ostentatious gold rings which bore the company's logo. My father was the News Director, the wildly popular host of "TalkBack", and an overall celebrity in our corner of the world. He wore that ring with pride for many, many years.
Then the station was sold. Then there were management changes. Then there were content changes. And somewhere along the same time my father became completely disillusioned with the new company, the "old company's" logo spontaneously fell off the ring. He put the remaining empty signet ring in to Mum's jewelry box, and forgot about it, this once formidable symbol of his pride.
The summer that Brian was two, Daddy and Carleton came to visit my little family in Alberta. During that time, Daddy saw ammolite for the first time in his life. Ammolite is a precious stone which is actually a fossil, and in all the world it is only found in Alberta. It resembles a dark opal, always shifting colour in the light, and he was in love.
The following year, he returned to Alberta to visit me once more, this time with the naked signet ring in tow. And this is where the story really starts.
Together we consulted a jeweler, selecting the HUGE slab of ammolite to top off his ring. I spent a great deal of time turning that ring over in my hands during the design process. Daddy returned to New Brunswick before it was ready, so I was the one to pick it up and examine closely the resulting work, which I absolutely approved. I sent it to him by mail, and undoubtedly he and my Mum also spent a great deal of time examining the new ring when it arrived at their end.
Ammolite is also, unfortunately, quite brittle and fragile, and probably not the best material for a man's ring. Less than a year later, he mailed it back to me so that I could have the stone repolished to correct a significant chip. When it was ready, I once more examined it closely, but I'm sure that when in arrived in NB, my parents looked at it even more closely.
In the years that followed, my father wore that ring constantly; the only time, to my knowledge, that he ever took it off was when he had to stuff his hand up a turkey. He didn't value his ammolite ring as much as he did his wedding ring, but it was close.
And just like his wedding ring, he was wearing his ammolite ring the night he died. I remember the doctors pouring his jewelry and the few little things that had been in his pockets, in to my mother's hands as we tried to understand that Daddy was gone. I remember being back at the house, and Mum and I starting at this tiny pile of his possessions.
I remember several times over the last year when myself, my brother, my sister or my Mum would get out Dady's little things, including his ring, and simply hold it in our hands.
Two weeks ago, Mum and I took Daddy's ring to the jeweller. Because the ammolite was a memory only Daddy and I shared, she wanted to have it made in to a pendant for me. We turned it this way and that as the jeweler explained what he would do to it.
This past weekend, we received a message that the jeweler was going out of business, and asking us to pick up our pieces. He actually had FOUR family rings in his shop at that time, pieces which combined value more that $15,000 , so Mum and I HAULED ASS to pick them up. We immediately drove to another jeweler, explained our sad story, and started the design process AGAIN. As mentioned, there were four pieces: Mum wanted to have her 20th anniversary diamond ring and Daddy's wedding ring merged in to one piece. I wanted to have my Mummy's diamand and opal ring resized so that I could wear it year round, and not just during cold weather.
And then we turned to the ammolite ring, and explained we wanted it made in to a pendant for me. Because ammolite is so delicate, they couldn't use heat to remove it from the ring, they would have to use a saw to cut part of the ring base, but still leave some of the ring.
And while I was turning the ring over in my hands, trying to understand what the lady was saying, my heart stopped. I peered inside the ring and said, "Mum, when did Daddy have the ring engraved?"
"He didn't."
"Well, Mum, SOMEBODY did."
Inside the ring, in bold letter as big as Billy-be-frigged, was one word. REJOICE
Rejoice. Where did this come from? What does it mean? Was it really there, all those years, and neither Mum nor I SAW it? Is that possible? It's written all in caps, the entire width of this formidable ring. REJOICE
I really don't want to be the Crazy Cat Lady, but the reason I told you this long story was simply to illustrate that you'd think that either my Mum or I would have noticed this before. And we never did.
REJOICE
posted by Jenn at
8:35 p.m.
2 Comments:
huh... how do you like that....
I miss you guys...
that is way cool.
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