The Ring: A Story of Memories and Loss

In the spirit of Christmas and Solstice I wish to share a story with you all. It is not a piece of fiction but is, in fact, very real and very believable and it starts with a ring.

Now, this ring was not gold nor was it forged from precious metals stolen from maidens or has it been owned by an evil king. This was a simple piece of surgical steel engraved with what one would call “tribal designs.” From which tribe this symbol made of curved and slicing lines belonged to, I have no idea. I do not actually believe the design to have had any connection to any indigenous belief systems. Think tattooed arm band from the 90’s and you’ve just about got it.

Now my father purchased this ring in a gift shop somewhere in the Washington peninsula. I saw it, thought it was cool (I was sixteen at the time) and the ring being 10 dollars he bought it for me. It was very nice of him and I was very gracious. I had never had a ring before and I thought it was great. 

Little did any of us know, this ring would be gone from my life in less than a day.

Not twenty-four hours after the purchasing of said ring, it had found its way to the bottom of a glacial lake. The story goes like this.

Scene: Family of four, white, middle-class, stops along a scenic road to view a glacial lake.
Parents are in their mid-forties. Children are teenagers and are throwing rocks the size of bread loaves into the lake.

Mother: Stop throwing rocks.

Teenage boy: One more.

Mother: No.

Teenage boy throws one more rock. The ring he is wearing comes off and is lost in the lake. The water is only two feet deep until roughly 3 meters into the lake where the elevation plummets to a depth so far down it is terrifying to stand that close!

Thus the ring was lost to all time.

End Scene.

That December my sister finds an identical ring online and gifts it to me for Christmas. The ring was worn and loved and periodically lost many times over the next decade. Once it spent the whole of a winter under my friend’s deck. We were hot tubing and it fell off the chair where I had placed my clothes and was not recovered until the snow melted and her parents found it.

Now comes August 2012. I went to Madeline Island, WI for my friend’s birthday (different friend than the one mentioned above but no less lovely and wonderful). We were camping near a beach and when a few of us decided to go skinning dipping at night I took my ring off. Long story short, when the cop told us to put our clothes back on, the ring was temporary forgotten and thus lost to the sand and surf.

Side note: Lake Superior and I have a touchy relationship. I love that lake so much. It is beautiful, calming, and so much fun; and yet once every few years or so it takes something very important to me. My freshmen year of college I went down for a moonlight swim and forgot to take off my glasses. After diving under and resurfacing blind, I knew they were gone forever. I try to be cautious around the lake but mama has her ways and takes what she will.  

The lake has her ways and I had a feeling I would be paying for the weekend in one way or another. A sacrifice was made and that weekend will live forever in the minds and hearts of all those who were there. It was a very special vacation and carries the nine of us through the years to this day. I just celebrated the winter solstice with them for the first time and it was just as lovely and wonderful as that time on Madeline Island.

I’ve been ring-less for a few months now. At first it was really weird not wearing anything on my left thumb. It’s surprising how accustom we become to the clothes we wear or the jewelry we put on every day. I really did/do miss that ring. You can see there was some real history wrapped around it. I really wanted to keep it for a long time. Nothing like a heirloom but something to have and hold for a good portion of my life.

My parents got me two rings this Christmas. They’re like the other one in that they are both made of steel, nothing fancy. No “tribal” designs this time. They are nice and I wear them both, one on my left thumb and the other on my right index. The new rings still feel odd on my hands but in time I’ll get use to them. I don’t really have a good story for them. Never the less, in time I will have written and told tales that include them too.

Perhaps I should name them?