OF THINGS LOST AND FOUND
Yesterday I almost lost an earring, one from my mother who passed away early last year, and therefore irreplaceable. I posted about it yesterday on my Facebook wall. Not only did the story end well, it ended with a laugh, a real guffaw.
The situation got me thinking about another time I lost something, something from my father.
For my tenth birthday, Daddy made me a ring, in fact, this ring. He worked in the Ring Department at L.G. Balfour Co. At this time he was probably not a factory worker “on the line”, but in a managerial position. In fact eventually Daddy designed many Super Bowl and World Series’s rings, but back then he had––or took––the freedom to explore and design rings of his own. Over the years I received many of his rings, but this one remains my favorite.
Back on that birthday he said, “This doesn’t have a gemstone; it’s just blue glass because you will lose it.”
Oh, how that blue glass sparkled! I loved it and vowed I’d keep it forever. He raised his eyebrows and smirked.
I was miffed he had so little faith in me so I set out to prove him wrong.
Fast forward thirty-five years or so: I still had the ring and wore it often. My oldest daughter was a sophomore in high school and in Drama. I volunteered back stage to help with costumes, makeup, providing snacks for starving teens, aka, a stage mom.
On opening night panic ensued when the lead actress, Wendy, discovered there was no ring. The play called for her hero to propose and give her a ring. Hero had forgotten or lost the prop; regardless, she asked if she could borrow one of mine.
I lent her this ring.
After the play I asked for it back and she said the Hero had it. He said someone else did. Long story short, it was gone. I searched everywhere; posted rewards; prayed fervently to the patron saint of lost things, St. Anthony. Nothing.
Daddy was right.
I spent the next year agonizing because I truly loved it and hated to think of the smirk he’d have when I would finally ‘fess up.
I didn’t. I kept my big trap shut.
The next year, Drama Daughter was again in a play, but I didn’t have time to volunteer. On opening night I was in the audience, and when the curtain came down and the lights came up, in front of me stood last year’s star, Wendy, she who had asked for my ring. She came home from college to support her Drama friends.We said hello and then my eye caught something.
On her finger was my ring.
I said a tiny prayer for the right words as I grabbed her hand in a death grip,“Thank you, Wendy!! Thank you for finding my ring and keeping it safe this whole year! The ring my father made me when…” I babbled on and on as I wiggled my ring off her hand and quickly onto my own.She argued a little but I think she knew it’d be best to shut up and leave.
It was a happy phone call I made to tell Daddy this story.
And his response? Wait for it: “But technically you lost it.”
Hope you enjoyed my little story. Anyone else has a Lost and Found story to share?