Ring Story
February 01, 2009
I took my wedding and engagement rings to the jeweler the other day because I was destroying the knuckle of my ring finger getting them on and off, and I needed to have them resized. That would leave my ring finger bare, the jeweler told me, for about ten days. After more than 40 years of marriage, I didn't like the idea of a bare ring finger.
So I dug out a small box containing rings that had belonged to my mother, and found a gold wedding band that fit. However, wearing only one ring didn't feel right. I added a thin gold band of my own, and that did the trick.
An observant young colleague asked about my "new" rings. I told her that one was my mom's. The other, I explained, was a ring I purchased at Woolworth's for less than a dollar 45 years ago. My boyfriend Mark and I were going away for a weekend, and back then unmarried couples just didn't share a room.
My colleague Laura burst out laughing. She couldn't believe it.
Times change.
This reminds me of an incident about 35 years ago in England when I inquired about a room at a bed and breakfast for me and my husband. I was in my late forties but looked younger, wearing jeans and a velvet jacket. And a wedding ring. The land-lady looked at me with deep suspicion and said, "You ARE married, are you." I have wondered since whether she asked everyone that, whether it was the jeans, or just the fact that I was American.
Posted by: Anne Gibert | February 01, 2009 at 11:55 AM