The Ring

Not to be confused with Der Ring des Nibelungen, The Lord of the Rings, The Ring of Brodgar, The Ring Nebula or Single Ladies Putting a Ring on It. Nope, this ring was my Grandmother Ruby’s -- my father’s mother, my much loved and missed Aunt Mary Ann’s mother.

She had it made from a gold nugget she picked up on her late 1920s Alaskan adventure -- the one where she hopped in her car (yeah, she owned a car of her own in the 1920s. She was Head Nurse at Toledo General Hospital in Ohio and most certainly her very own incredibly awesome woman) and drove North and then some more North to see Alaska before it was ruined, while it was still mostly wilderness and gold mines. Grandma was a tremendously strong babe and brooked no horseshit. She was formidable with a long side of scary and I loved her madly.

On one of my cleaning and organizing visits with Aunt Mary Ann in Hoosick Falls, New York (yeah, that’s honest and true the name of the town. Get all the Frostbite Falls jokes outta your system now. OK?), she showed me the ring, told me the story and then gave me this amazingly potent talisman.

tal·is·man
[tal-is-muhn, -iz-]
noun, plural -mans.
1. any amulet or charm.
3. anything whose presence exercises a remarkable or powerful influence on human feelings or actions.
Origin:
Ultimately from Greek telesma or from the Greek word "telein" which means "to initiate into the mysteries")

From a random on line dictionary -- looks like it certainly applies to my ring on, maybe/baby, a couple of levels. That’s cool.

I wear it on a chain, as a necklace. Why? Because, in addition to being a marvelous story and inspiration, while it instills me with trust in my own strength and sense,  it is definitively, seriously most ugly. I'm telling you now, this ring will never win prizes for style and grace.

Not all talismans are going to be objects of radiant, majestic beauty. That’d be way too boring mon ami.