I once told my friend Tyler that I usually tried to wear something, like a piece of jewelry, most likely, or clothing, that reminded me of myself, whenever I had something arduous/daunting to do, typically a first day of work. I end up assigning a lot of power to these memorabilia. And it seems to run in the family. My grandmother once gave me a pendant that she told me had her childhood teeth marks in it. And I know there were other important things about this pendant, but that was the most important thing that stuck with me because it seemed important to her too.
My dad started wearing a necklace that came from somewhere important, I think after his mother, my grandmother, died, which he referred to as his “bling.” He passed along these miscellaneous boxes of trinkets around that time, that I couldn’t and can’t remember the specific importance of, but felt the overall weight of; he filtered through them once while visiting me in Denver, asking my permission to take a specific emblem.
A necklace was also left in my childhood room once, a pretty bird siting on a gnarled branch, that was bought in either Lafayette or Spain. The certainty behind it is that it was bought by my dad for his mom.
Then there’s the necklace I bought when dad visited me to help me move from Greeley to Denver, May 2011. It’s two glossed-over, preserved, Colorado autumn leaves, and as soon as he bought it for me (my choice), he put it on, and the jeweler watched. You could have called it a “father-daughter moment.” You could have called it poignant.
My maternal grandmother (you know who you are!) bought me jewelry in a certain way for some time; her way was to say, “it reminded me of you!” and smile deeply, after I’d opened the gift. Which felt so special and serene to me.
This feeling, though, of attaching such importance to things–it says something about us, me and dad and dad’s mom. It says how weighted down and earth-bound we are. You have to have little mottos to help you get through that kind of life, things like dad used to say to ease the pain of getting a driving ticket or losing $10 through a proverbial pocket hole: “It’s the cost of living.” I.e., shit happens, and as much as we love our symbols–these stars that connect us from one place and one time to another–certainly there is something bigger and more beyond.