Of rings and things

Maybe it was seeing The Aviator last night, but this morning as I dressed for church I had an urge to put on a ring I inherited from my great-aunt, who died last year. All of her jewelry was very 1940s and 1950s - large, with bold and striking designs. This one has a kind of flower setting with a very sizeable amethyst. It's big enough (and pointy enough) that I almost never wear it. It was only when I got home from church, pondering a story in the morning's sermon about the death of a beloved family member, that I realized my great-aunt's birthday was just last week. Weird.

In recent years I've inherited a variety of rings from The Women of My House. I have long, skinny fingers and these rings appear ill-suited for me, as the Women of My House have generally had strong peasant hands. The simple pinky ring from Aunt M. fits perfectly on my ring finger. Another one of hers is swirly and filled with little diamonds, and fits loosely at best on my middle finger. I'm not much of a jewerly person, at least not the kind with real gems. I live in Seattle, where "dressing up" means wearing something nicer than hiking boots with your jeans, and all that glitter looks out of place next to my fleece and denim. So I'm more of a folk and costume jewelry gal, myself. And lazy about it to boot - the piercing holes in my ears have nearly closed from disuse. Plus, given the strife and injustice that the gem trade has brought to many countries and peoples in Africa, I'm a little self-conscious about visibly adorning myself with precious stones.

But I've come to value these rings as very practical, portable little ancestral tokens. There aren't a lot of of other mementos that you could carry along with you this easily, and with such durability. My grandmother was a china-painter and I have an entire hutch of her work, but it's not exactly portable. I have silver candlesticks from my other grandmother, which in addition to their bulk require endless polishing.

So, when I have an important professional meeting, I wear the big swirly diamond ring, and when I slip it on my finger it's as if I'm putting on my aunt's confidence and business savvy. For day-to-day, I wear the pinky ring that she took off her own hand one day and gave to me, matter-of-factly and without fanfare. Every now and then an inexplicable urge will call me to put on Aunt H.'s big bulky amethyst, and I just go with the instinct, not exactly sure what it's supposed to bring me, but putting my trust in the Women of My House.