I love rings and have been collecting them over forty years, the first one being a diamond engagement ring I received at Christmas in 1964. I married the giver the following year. Back then, my list of desired rings was short: It included a diamond, a pearl, a ruby, star sapphire, and an emerald.
My new husband was aware of my love of rings and, in time, provided me with a lovely pearl and a Linde star sapphire. Today, the pearl has long been lost on a field trip I took in graduate school. When I realized it was missing, I retraced my steps in the hope of finding it. But no luck. No insurance coverage either.
Fast forward to the past decade where my obsession with rings has intensified. Now I’m interested in such precious stones as tanzanite, spinel, tourmaline, and Caribbean mystic. I love aquamarine, peridot, and alexandrite. Jade, colored sapphires and colored diamonds. And every time I purchase a new ring I tell myself, “This is the last ring you need.”
Family and friends will acknowledge I’ve had a lot of last rings. Probably behind my back they whisper that I’m deluding myself as there is always one more ring calling to me. Most recently, it was an imperial topaz; and I bought it before the recent stock market tumblings. I paid cash too. And, unlike the pearl of years ago, it’s insured.
This isn’t about bragging rights. Actually, I’m thinking that this could really be the last ring as the economy doesn’t justify continued extravagance for my fingers. So, if I hold to my statement, I will have to settle for never having a ruby. But there will be the pleasure of proving my family and friends wrong this time.
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