This is by far my oldest ring. It came to me in a strange
way. My Great Aunt lay on her death bed with me in attendance when suddenly she
reached for my hand. “Save Clippy’s ring,” she said. “Look under my bed.” Then
she fell back asleep, my hand still in hers. Sometime later, my first cousin
Jim, once removed, came to spell me, and I returned to my Aunt’s room where I
was staying, to get some needed rest, but I kept hearing my Aunt’s words.
Reluctantly, I looked under the bed where I found all manner of boxes and
clutter.
I reviewed what I knew about Clippy. She had been my Aunt’s
dear friend and my Aunt had been her paid companion for many years. My Aunt
already openly possessed many of Clippy’s things having inherited her choice of
worldly goods when Clippy died so many years ago. I also knew all my Aunt’s
considerable collection of jewelry having visited it and heard the stories
behind each piece. Everything was made elegant by her touch. In fact it was
funny how forlorn her shoe box full of rings was without her there to animate
them on her long elegant fingers. And I knew there were no rings from Clippy.
Clippy’s daughter had gotten all her mother’s jewelry. Which is what made this
whole request so strange.
I went through all the stuff under the bed. After much
effort, I unpacked a box that contained another and so forth until I found a
tiny ring sized box. Inside was a ring wrapped in newspaper. I thought, at the
time, the old piece of newsprint was keeping the crystal stones shiny because
old newspaper has a high level of rag content. But then I smoothed out the
paper and saw it was an obituary from the early ‘60s. The man was handsome and
a war hero and married to somebody else.
My Aunt was too ill to ever tell me anything else. I took
the ring home and wear it on special occasions, and I’ve never seen anything
that comes close to being as breathtaking as this ring. I always get
compliments. My Aunt was a keeper of other peoples’ secrets, some of which she
shared with me[LW1] .
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