The purple velvet box

My grandmother's house was small. So as you can imagine, each closet and dresser was packed to its capacity. Open the pantry, there were 10 boxes of Ziploc bags. Open the closet, 20 crocheted afghans in a rainbow of colors might tumble down in a soft, heavy pile. But the charming house was always clean, and was big enough to host family for a weekly Sunday lunch. She woke up around 4:30a.m, I think, to prepare the marinara. I loved her tomato sauce, and can still remember how it tasted. That can happen when you ate it weekly for nearly 15 years. 

 Since I could remember, Mamá, as we called her, only wore simple gold earrings, a gold shell pendant on a gold chain and her wedding ring. 

That's why I was surprised to be given Pauline's 4 strands of pearls after her passing. I had never seen her wear them, but found a photo of her wearing them with an elegant navy blue dress. This was taken when I was 4 years old.

I wore the strands on my wedding day, along with her wedding headpiece, which I am reluctant to call a tiara. It's so much more than that. Here I am with my younger sister, Alexis. 

I have many pieces of jewelry of Mamá's including this lovely ring. I loved it so much, I used to wear it weekly, even while waitressing... Who knows how much salsa and guacamole was stuck on there. I really do wear my treasures, often too hard on them. It survived! 

But my favorite piece of jewelry from Mamá came as a huge surprise. I knew she had scores of jewelry boxes neatly stacked like a Jenga puzzle in her night stands. My aunt Josephine, who gave me the tiara and pearls, also presented me with this:

The pearlized button gave a satisfying pop when pressed, and the lid sprung open. At first, I thought the sparkle was cubic zirconia as so many others. I plucked the ring from the satin pillow and looked inside. 14 karat gold. What CZ would be set in gold? 

But what I saw next gave me chills. A note on yellowed paper was tucked up in the lid.

With trembling fingers, I gingerly pulled out the paper and unrolled the mystery note. It looked like it been taken from the pad next to her rotary phone. Was it the price? Where she bought it?

It read, "Jo, This ring is for Erica when she is 16, Mom." Looking in the lid, the address of the jewelry store listed 5th Avenue, Brooklyn, the city where my grandmother was born and raised my father and Jo. 

To make this special story even better, my grandmother did not miss a detail. The appraisal of the ring from the 1980s was included.  She brought in loose diamonds to a jeweler in Deltona and asked for a one-of-kind ring for a young girl. 

There are so many mysteries with this gift. Why did she not give me the ring on my 16th birthday? Was it lost in the sea of beige boxes or was she saving it for another time? It is sized large, too big for even my middle finger. I debated making the ring face into a pendant, wondering if my white gold wedding band would look strange with the gold of Mamá's present. But that idea was quickly dismissed. This is the way Mamá wanted it for me. 

She introduced me to the Andrews Sisters, as we danced around her living room with the record spinning. She made biscotti a New York pastry shop would serve. A two liter of Pepsi and a box of Junior Mints were always chilling in the refrigerator, in case I visited. She was a ham in front of a video camera. Her hair was always pinned up in a large bun atop her head. She peppered her English with Italian phrases. She would show my friends around her home, rattling off who gave her what, and if she liked it or not. I am very honored to have a few of her personal items. Maybe it's why I love wearing old jewelry. I don't understand how someone else's grandmother's pieces line the flea market booths. Didn't anyone care about Aunt Betty's or Grandma Vera's favorite necklace?  I am giving those baubles a good home, adopting them off the streets. But they can't compare to Mamá's jewels.