This article was beautiful and made me cry even in the midst of a hellbent-for-leather busy morning. In my family, making the matriarch cry (out of sentiment) was always the mark of hitting her right in the heart. I am now the matriarch (and wear my mother's wedding band, too) and my sons know that their handwritten sentiment on birthdays, holidays and Mother's Days mean so much to me that I will rain tears while reading them. The author's article did the same. Thank you.
61
My grandmother's wedding band literally wore out; testimony to raising six children in the early 1900's.
36
Excellent read. For me it is both my parents wedding rings in a jewelry box on my bedroom dresser, my father's rank insignia from the US Army, and my mother's graduation pin from Massachusetts General Hospital School of Nursing.
31
This made me cry. And also to spin my mother's wedding ring on my finger while thinking of her virtues and the lessons she taught me.
29
Not rings, but bracelets. I have a collection of mostly silver but 2 enamel bracelets from aunts and cousins who have died (my mother never wore bracelets but I had her engagement and wedding rings turned into a necklace). I will wear a few of them on a regular basis but for family occasions, I will wear all 9 of them. I love knowing that I have brought some of the most influential women in my life to the party.
30
I have been wearing my mother's wedding band since she passed away in 1995. Doing genealogical research gave me insights into the lives of relatives I barely knew or never knew well. I'd heard stories, as a child, from my grandmothers but I was much more interested in pop culture and my own generation. While researching as an adult, though, their stories--at least the ones I could remember-- began to resonate.
On my dad's side, my great and great-great grandmother pioneered and ended up along the Columbia river in the farther reaches of north-central Washington state. Those two women ran a rural midwifing hospital and ranched and my great-grandmother learned to fly a plane. They were hard-scrabble women whose "liberation" came not from theory but from necessity. My grandmother and her sister went to a "Normal" college and went on to teach school, and were the first in their family to get higher educations.
On my mother's side, my grandmother was born in Grand Forks in the late-1800s and her mother died a month after giving birth to her, at the still-tender age of 27, likely of complications of childbirth. Her distraught father, not knowing what to do with a child, left her in the care of his brother and his wife, who brought her with them to the Pacific Northwest. They took great care of her, but effectively, she was orphaned and rarely saw her father, who chased dreams.
These were strong, capable women. I had it easy because of them.
29
Hazel was her Name, she was my Mother’s Mom. Born in the 1920s to a Family of Farmers/Coal Miners in far eastern Kentucky, right across the Tug River from West Virginia. She married another Miner, quickly had my Mother, the eldest, then the first Boy. Grandpa finally got drafted in WW2, after training he was sent to Italy, and survived Two years of fighting, until finally, and suddenly, Victory in Europe was declared. He came Home. Hazel and the two kids had been living with Her Family, now they were together, in a small rented house. He went back to work in the Mines, She stayed home and had Babies. In total, 15 babies. Only one, the last, died after a few weeks, from “ birth defects “. I had two aunts and one uncle younger than myself. My Mother, the eldest, had to drop out of School after the Tenth grade, to help at Home. She has rightfully been bitter about that, since. Hazel was always, always cheerful and loving, sharing their meager Meals with anyone that dropped by or needed help. She was a religious Woman, in the best sense. The best memories from my childhood was the summers, when my parents would take me and my Brother Johnny and drop us off, to stay with them for WEEKS. It was a paradise for Kids. We cried mightily, we we returned “home “ for School. Sadly, Grandma Hazel Died in the 1980s from a massive Brain Tumor, that had been growing for years. Grandpa a few years later, Black Lung and Prostate Cancer. I miss them and think about them, very often.
44
@Phyliss Dalmatian
Thanks for sharing such a personal history.
Sincere condolences on the loss of your Grandma Hazel and Grandpa. No doubt they provided a rich tapestry of beautiful and heartfelt memories.
15
Thanks, MK. Without hesitation, my Grandma Hazel is the best person I’ve ever known. After she passed, her Daughter Brenda took that Crown. My favorite Aunt, and only about 10 years older than I. We pay for her to fly to Florida and visit my Parents, while we are also visiting. It’s really great. The Husband and I Drive there, it’s about 1400 miles, one way. We stop one night in Memphis, there and back. We also do this at Christmas. I do about 90 percent of the Driving, he navigates and plays with devices. I’ve threatened to leave him at the side of the road, but haven’t done so. Yet. No, we have a great time. Last summer we took an extra day and visited “ Graceland “. It was really a great experience, that have it down to a Science, and art. I shed a few tears at the Graves, and we listened to Elvis the remainder of the Trip. Highly recommended.
Have a great Holiday. WE and NOT going anywhere, and not having guests. Maybe time for Dalmatian Baths, before Winter ??? Lord help us.
19
@Phyliss Dalmatian the more of your comments I read, I believe you have a book in you. Please get it started.
23
My paternal grandmother was THE center of our family, and I continue to think of her often. She became a surrogate mother to my mother, as her own was a nasty drunk. Grandma had only a second grade education, but when she suddenly had free time after her husband's death of ALS at 70, she became a voracious reader. She was deaf in one ear - she told my mother for years that it was from a childhood illness, but later admitted it was from her father hitting her.
Grandma raised two sons who went to college and became successful professionals, and was thrilled when each married and had three daughters. We still share her recipes, and I can still hear the distinctive way she pronounced my name, carefully enunciating the two syllables in a way no one else has ever done - perhaps a relic of her German birth.
She made us who we all are.
43
To the editor
How lovely to share Margaret Renkl's choice to experience comfort and strength in wearing wedding rings worn by beloved family women ! On my ring finger I wear my own wedding ring, placed on my finger nearly 50 years ago, my mother's slim wedding ring and the heftier yellow gold ring from my no-nonsense maternal grandmother.
I no longer wear my ornate engagement ring, beautiful though it is, having discovered early in married life how often my hands were working - rolling out pastry, peeling potatoes, changing diapers, needing a thorough soap and water scrub once the task was finished... I share my mother's conviction that women's hands are working hands, and I find comfort as I continue to wear her ring and that of her mother.
85
I really agree with you! I have thought of my arms over the years that are a little scarred, a little flabby but have cared for so many sick people (as a nurse) with plenty of skill. I wonder if they would have resembled my mothers if she had lived past the age of 50.
10
I can always count on Margaret to spread a little humanity around via her essays, in the midst of all the inhumanity coming from the White House.
After my father died my mother gave me his diamond stud tie pin while telling me she wanted me to have her wedding ring when she was gone.
I had the two pieces combined into a ring I could wear and I wear it now with my own wedding ring.
So, like Margaret, I always carry a reminder of my family.
37
I have my great-grandmother’s wedding ring from when she was married in 1890. It is thin gold with a row of tiny smooth diamonds. It is a precious reminder of her strength and faith in God.
24
Margaret,
You reminded me, sweetly, why I wear my grandmother's rose gold wedding band each day. Though I never met her, my mother and aunt told us stories of her kindness and playfulness. She was a first generation Irish immigrant who cleaned houses when she arrived to join her cousins in a crowded house in Lynn, MA. She married and had four daughters who inherited her warmth and loving spirit.
My Aunt Rita, a single woman, wore her mother's golden band until her own death five years ago when I inherited it. She cherished the simple -only?- piece of jewelry of her mother owned. My grandmother survived the Great Depression but died of breast cancer when my Aunt Rita was only seven years old. My mother Phyllis, 14 at the time, stepped in to become my mother's primary mother figure. Their bond lasted until they died within 6 months of each other several years ago.
Strong, loving women.
Yes.
Matriachs.
59
I'm actually Mrs. Henry. You can call me Kathy.
I loved your column because I, too, wear the rings of women in my family who are gone, and whose support I still feel. I had the rings for a while, then one day put them all on together.
I keep the rings in the exact same order, and I think about them every single time I look at my hands.The days when I don't have them all on--when I'm just wearing my own wedding band--I miss not only the physical weight that's on my finger, but the whole energy they hold of connectivity, love and strength.
Over the years I've gotten many comments and admiration from young women I work with. They love all the rings together and talk about aspiring to that look. That's when I tell them it's not a look. I take them all off and have them hold my mother, my mother-in-law and my grandmother--all my ladies who are with me.
62
When my husband died two years ago all of us—his immediate family, friends and many colleagues—were stunned. He was so young and vital, someone who really cherished his life. For my daughter his death was particularly difficult to accept. One day, on impulse, and after sensing her deep sadness, I gifted her with my beautiful, hand crafted twentieth anniversary ring. She’s still misses her Father but having this ring seems to lessen the burden of his loss.
47
This is such a beautiful piece, and offered at a beautiful time.
I’ve long been an enormous believer in the power of talismans, largely thanks to their very real capability to provide perspective.
My father spent the last years of his life in Samara, Russia, aiding orphaned children. When he was unexpectedly diagnosed with, and swiftly succumbed to terminal lung cancer, I began wearing his Russian prayer ring on a chain around my neck, as it is too large for my fingers. Some years later, a dear friend and profound influence upon my life passed of a sudden brain aneurysm, and I took to wearing an amber ring he had gifted to me previously. I realized that if worn alongside my father’s ring, it snugly keeps everything in place- two talismans together at all times, reminding me of two deeply important people in my life.
Finally, after over three decades of unawareness I recently discovered that I had been sitting on one of the most beautiful talismans I own- the Masonic pendant owned by my great grandfather, who took his own life in 1933. My aunt mentioned it earlier this year, noting that my grandmother treasured it deeply as a sort of memento mori after her father’s death. It had been in her jewelry box all that time, and as I began to learn more about his life and struggles, I placed it on a chain and began wearing it around my neck. This piece, more than any other, communicates a love and empathy that spans generations, and it belongs exactly where it is, over my heart.
24
How lucky you are to have such wonderful, strong women in your life. I never got to know my grandmother but I have wore my mother’s and mother-in-laws wedding rings for years for the same reasons. Thanks
21
Fifty eight years ago, when I was twelve, I asked my mother what was going to happen to her wedding ring when she died. She told me she didn't know and asked me if I wanted it. I did. I've never worn jewelry but when she died about five years ago, I put it on my finger. It still shines and reflects light eighty years after Mom first wore it.
47
Beautiful essay. My sister and I recently celebrated her daughter’s engagement at a party thrown by her in-laws to be. Surprise: we each showed up wearing family pearls. Hers were my mother’s. Mine were our maternal grandmother’s. We hadn’t coordinated. We just wanted these amazing, dear women, departed from this world, there to celebrate with us.
65
Remembering my great grandmother Carolina Andersson, who travelled alone, immigrating to America from Sweden around 1870. when she was 19. She married my great grandfather, a younger man, and had my grandfather, an only child, when she was 42.
I have just one photo of her with my mother as a child, taken in 1926 when she was 72 and still working as a cook at the Swedish Hospital in Minneapolis or St Paul. Mom said she wore men's shoes. She spoke Swedish to my mother and taught her to bake - a family tradition.
I think her sense of adventure and the work ethic that she had lived on in my mother and in in me.
I'm still working at 70 and happily baking cakes!
58
I wear my grandmother’s thin gold wedding band. She passed it on to my mother who always wore it, then passed it on to me. It helps me keep these two courageous women alive in me.
34
Today November 25 is her Birthday and my mother would have been 100. What better way to celebrate than to read Margaret Renkl's 'Five Wedding Rings'. Before placing a call to Versailles to our family friend who was devoted to her, my thoughts are with my grandmother whom I never met; Paule died two weeks before I was born.
Born at the feet of the Pyrenees near Bordeaux, and wed at sixteen to an older man in France, she was left a widow, when he was killed at Verdun. Her wedding band is on my widow's finger now and never quite forgotten. It is a simple gold ring with a reddish glow, noticed by a Hungarian woman working behind a counter, and the alliance inscribed within, has long been worn away.
She met my grandfather on a war-boat during WWI, where he is described in an old Baltimore newspaper clip as one of the first Americans to join our European allies. They married in Paris. During the Great Depression, they stayed in Morocco with their three daughters, and Hope, Faith and Charity, three horses, carried them onto their young travels until they returned to America.
My mother married again at seventy her companion and best friend of forty years. The ring he gave her, now rests next to my grandmother's, and it is a delicate gold band which cleaves on occasion, revealing two mysterious names; a secret that even the above pair did not know.
But in remembering my French mother, grandmother and aunts, it is their Courage that comes to mind and their love for America.
44
Moved to tears reading this on the subway this morning, twisting my own mother's wedding ring which I found in her things and put on after she died. It gives me a little bit of Kentucky strength. Thinking about my Mamaws and all the other women and men who sacrificed so I could have my little world. I was adopted and am learning now in my mid 50s about my birth mother's sacrifices too. So many women being brave over the years. Thank you for reminding me to be grateful for those years of love and courage in this beautiful piece today.
80
An excellent idea. My wife also wears her mother's wedding ring and No. 2 son's wife wears his great-grandmother's diamond in her engagement ring.
12
I never forget the painful hardships my mother endured, especially at such a young age, i.e., losing her mother when she was 11, losing 4 babies (two in her early 20s) throughout her marriage, and losing three brothers to cancer.
But she NEVER complained, never sat around, feeling sorry for herself. Every day she got out of bed, was grateful for the children she had, and did her best to make our lives rich with love and her emotional support.
I have always felt extremely lucky to have had a mother who took the time and had the patience to teach me how to bake and who was also my best pal in life. I feel closest to her whenever I am in the kitchen, baking her recipe for various cookies and cakes, and especially her fruit cake at Christmas which my husband adores.
I always feel bad for people who never had a loving or kind or happy relationship with either parents because I think a goal of parents is to teach and be role models for their children when it comes to love, respect, and forgiveness.
I am truly grateful to Margaret Renkl and her many beautiful, thoughtful and illuminating articles. I wish her, her family and all of these commenters a wonderful Thanksgiving.
177
@Marge Keller
How fortunate you are!
5
This piece is utterly beautiful. I read it and looked down at my hand and there are is my Grandmothers’ ring - so tiny - given in so shortly after she got off the boat from
Greece. And Mothers. I hadn’t thought of them as Talismans. And they are. Subtle. Fierce. Thank you for teaching us what it is like to be human.
97
Beautiful. LATE MIGRATIONS is a gorgeous book in every way. Thank you.
As someone who traveled frequently for work, I wore the same jewelry almost every day for practical and sentimental reasons. The key to it all is something that is often hidden, a chain which is mostly little gifts from my husband, plus a charm from an elegant aunt, charms from 2 early beaus, and my mother’s wedding ring. My talismans.
12
I didn’t think I was even that close to my mother...YET I wear her wedding ring with my own everyday. Maybe we we closer than I thought.
20
My grandmother was married in 1915 in Italy and one week later boarded a boat with my grandfather to America. She gave her original wedding ring to the war effort (remember the scene in Gone with the Wind). I wear her second wedding ring, a slim band that fits perfectly. She died 13 years before I was born so this ring is one of my only connections to her.
When my father died 24 years ago my mother could not reconcile with being a widow. She wore his wedding ring for many years. Once her only grandson (he was 3 when his grandfather died) became upset that he had no memory of his grandfather. In the midst of of this sadness my mother took off my dad’s wedding ring and gave it to her grandson so he would have this ring as a tangible memory.
The diamond in my engagement ring belonged to my husband’s great grandmother. A miner’s cut, it sparkles even in candlelight.
Rings do matter.
31
My mother gave my father a ring she had designed for him--a Gothic letter B in enamel on a gold band and he always wore it. I don't know where or when she gave it to him, but I always loved it. When my father knew he was dying, he asked me what I wanted of his possessions. All I wanted was the ring, which he gladly gave to me. I wore it for special occasions for many years. When my son became an adult, I gave him the ring, which he cherishes. And now I'm looking at a picture which hangs on my wall--his hands, wearing Dad's ring. I still miss Dad and think about him every day, and I'm glad my son now has his ring.
33
My daughter was 20 when her dad died. I asked her to take his wedding ring to save for a special someone. 15 years or so later the special one arrived, and they used to gold from that ring to have new rings made for each other. They are beautiful. The rings and the young couple.
55
When my husband died, I slipped his gold band off his ring finger and put it on my middle finger, next to my matching band. Touching the rings that we wore for 65 years is almost like being able to touch one another again.
129
@T. Walton
Such a lovely, heart felt words.
Bless your kind heart.
24
@T. Walton
I lost my wife of 44 years two years ago. I wear her wedding band on my left pinky finger, next to my own matching band. We are forever married and she continues to touch me.
49
In loss, I find we gravitate toward objects our loved ones wore. I am reminded of my own talisman: my father’s sweatshirt. His sudden loss this past summer has left me bereft. But I truly feel enveloped in his memory and protection wearing his oversized sweatshirt, like a hug he can no longer give me.
37
@Sheri or?- a hug he gives differently now.
12
Indeed!
1
When my husband of 39 years was suddenly killed in a cycling accident in Florida almost 9 years ago and I returned to my cold and snowy home in CT, I seemed to channel my great-grandmother’s strength as I tried to remove ice dams and shovel out my little car. In 1886, 8 1/2 months pregnant with my grandmother and living near Canada in upstate NY, my great grandfather shot himself at work. She went on to raise my grandmother and her older sister alone, and both girls graduated from St. Lawrence University in the very early 20th century. As I wondered how I could deal with winter alone, I suddenly thought of her, and wondered no more. The strength of our ancestral matriarchs for sure.
191
@Karen Zimmer When I'm going through difficult times, I too think of my grandmother. She left the only home she had known to escape war and persecution. She and my grandfather brought their three children, including my dad, to America. They arrived not speaking the language. The Russian rubles they managed to scrape together for the trip were worthless by the time their ship docked at Ellis Island.
But they made it. My grandmother was brave and strong, and she kept her family moving forward. My uncle became a professor at the U of Texas. My dad was a chemical engineer.
We are the legacy of those amazing people. It's our job to be brave and strong too.
45
@Karen Zimmer
Sincere condolences on the passing your husband.
Your comment was profoundly moving on so many levels. May you continue to channel and find strength in your great-grandmother throughout your life.
I am always amazed and inspirited by just how stoic, strong and tough women have always been, especially those in our own lives.
21
Thank you so much for sharing this. When my husband died, I put a tiny spoonful of his ashes and his wedding ring in a small lip balm container -- not the lipstick kind, the "run your finger around the edges" kind. Not only did the ring fit perfectly, but once sealed it would not open. Not at all. So, it came with me in my pocket to events where my children were doing something important -- a graduation, a performance, and I curled my fingers around it every night for two years. It's been three years now, but I still pull it out of my bedside drawer every so often, and it always, as you say, acts as a talisman -- reminding me of how loved I was and that in many ways, love IS stronger than death. I found in your piece the voice of a sister of grief -- and was comforted.
63
I wear a ring from my grandmother, a Hungarian immigrant to America and a Holocaust survivor, on my right hand daily. It reminds me of her, her sacrifices, bravery, and tenacity, as well as her wonderful qualities-- the Hungarian food she made, the quirky missteps she made in speaking English, her accent, her stories and comments. I was touched to try on one of her wedding rings (different from the ring that I wear) last year and find that we wore exactly the same size. I am shaped by who she was. I try to honor that with who I am.
38
I was married on my great-grandmother"s wedding band; which was my mother's. It rained that day, breaking a drought and that made me feel she was there.
27
My father could not afford engagement or wedding bands when my parents first married. He slipped a cigar band on her ring finger with a promise to give her real rings when he could. They were married for 55 years and she did eventually get her rings. After she died I was responsible for her burial. In her jewelry box was the cigar band. I slipped it into her pocket before they closed the casket lid and buried her next to my father. "Together forever" says the plaque on their graves.
92
@luther...This grown man is tearing up at the moving love story. I was in my early 20s before dad got mom the diamond ring he could not afford on their wedding day. 53 years they were married before she predeceased him. Nine years later, like the country song, "he stopped loving her today."
27
@luther
Your post brought tears to my eyes, especially when I read that you slipped the cigar ban "into her pocket before they closed the casket lid and buried her next to my father."
20
@luther Thank you for that story. My papou couldn't afford a ring for my mommom either and gave her his highschool ring instead. I didn't find it until after her burial, but I keep it with me and it means more than anything ever could.
18
As a daughter wearing her father’s resized wedding band, a necklace made from her husband’s great grandfather’s watch fob, the graduation ring of another male relative and an uncle’s cuff links on French cuffed shirts, I appreciate the stories behind these male heirlooms and treasure them above all other possessions. Some day I’ll look forward to passing everything to the next generation, along with the stories & unanswered questions...How could they afford to buy a ring during the Great Depression? How did he feel when he gave his only son the watch fob as he emigrated from Ireland? And why did my dad stop wearing his ring?
22
Thank you for your touching words.
My mom died of cancer about 35 years ago. She was surrounded by her immediate family. My dad stayed behind as we left the room. I paused at the door and became the only witness to what followed.
Dad said something to mom, then he removed her wedding band before removing his. He never wore his wedding band again.
I received both bands when I got married. Aside from various watches I’ve had over the years, my dad’s wedding band is the only piece of jewelry I’ve ever worn.
The band symbolizes my marriage and commitment to my wife. On a personal level, it always reminds me of the enduring love my parents had for each other.
60
When I was a young girl, my mother showed me the wedding ring she had been married in and that as part of a long family tradition she would give it to me for my wedding and to hand down to daughters who would hand it down to theirs. The ring was a solid gold band with no gemstones that could break the solidity of the love it stood for.. The ring had been worn by my great grandmother and her mother as well. When I received it, it felt as though I had been given the history of my family
The ring was taken in a robbery many years ago. I miss it still. It embodies not only love but the strength and courage of my grandmother who came here at 16 to escape the Nazis with nothing but her new husband and that ring. She built a life and a family. Ms. Renki’s beautiful piece feels it had been written for me and moved me to tears.
50
Margaret, I, too, wear Mom's wedding band. If I can think of anyone who has given me the strength I need to meet the constant challenges of life it is my dear mother whom I miss and speak to everyday. Soon, I will add my husband's wedding band to my own. He has advanced PD, this brilliant, active, wonderful partner and father, relative and friend to others, protector all his adult life of our God-given natural resources. You see, I need them with me. I need their touch even upon my fingers. It works, indeed, it does.
29
My mom died when I was a few months short of 30. 16 years ago. I miss her terribly every day.
I wear piece of her jewelry to every family event - it makes me feel like she’s with us enjoying the day.
14
This was such a lovely article that really resonated with me. I too believe in “magical thinking” when it comes to certain objects. Mine is a silver necklace bought for me by my beloved mother when we were on a trip...just the two of us, which made it really special. I wear it most days, but never travel without it. It has given me solace on so many occasions. Keep wearing those rings; the spirits of those strong, compassionate women will be there with you.
13
How lovely! I wear a ring from my mother on my left hand and a ring from my beloved aunt on my right hand. The rings remind me of the strengths of these two women. They were very different women. My mother was a suburban housewife in the 50’s and raised four girls. Her artistic talents were set aside until her later years but never forgotten. My aunt was briefly married and had no children. She lived in SanFrancisco and worked full-time. That seemed terribly exotic to me. She traveled the world solo and was so independent. I love these women whose gifts were singular and remind me to honor both paths in my own life.
21
I loved this piece. In 1980, when we formally announced our engagement (it had been two years in the making), husband gave me his grandmother's engagement ring - at that point, 60 years old. From a practical perspective, he was 19 and I was a few weeks from 20, both of us in college - he couldn't afford to buy a ring, so his parents gave him his grandmother's ring. I knew her the last few years of her life, and she was a strong woman; I'm honored to wear her ring (it turns 100 next year).
25
I honestly do not understand the point of these very personal reflections.
2
From my heart......thank you!
The Iroquois tribes were all matriarchies. They voted for a chief and put him in power. If they made a mistake, they alone had the power to remove him.
Women hold the secret of life.
I smile through tears remembering the women in my life who made me...such as I am. My great grandmother was a Yaqui from Chihuahua state with skin the color of slate. Josephina Rico, I owe my life to you.
12
Anything that works.
Most, if not all, of those women who "came before (you)" did so because their men gave their lives in backbreaking and soulbreaking work, and fought and died in the wars to protect them.
But those men didn't make it "possible for (you) to face life's hardships?"
5
@Travelers Well, travelers, I guess you're a man - you don't know the difference between womens' strengths and mens', it seems. You can't let a woman look back at her female family members with gratitude without saying, "but, but, but?" I'm grateful to my father for his love of science and to my great-aunt for reading to me when I was a child and to a woman not in our family for believing in me. Being grateful is a personal thing. Doesn't do to dictate to whom.
75
@Travelers
I am truly amazed at this comment, but in a disappointing way.
The tone comes across in such a harsh and hurtful way, completely contrary to what this approaching season of family gatherings is all about.
I sincerely wish you peace.
50
@Travelers
With the utmost respect, you know the history of this family to call her out like that? Seriously?
39
I love everything about this essay. I’ve been thinking about the same recently, about how we give strength to others by our example, and about how we can draw strength simply thinking about our family members who have passed on. I’m sure your ancestors were with you on your book tour, and so proud of you.
17
What a beautiful story! Your words ring true.
I have kept my mom’s ring in a safe place ever since she passed away a few years ago. Sold her house and am still unpacking so much, literally and figuratively, but I’ll try wearing it.
21
@Vicki I have my mother's ring and my grandmother's put away in a safe place. Why? I think I will also try wearing them.
8
I loved this!!
15
Thank you, Margaret Renkl. I enjoyed your story about the rings, I admire the values you hold, and I am always happy to encounter your calm voice of reason and empathy on the pages of this newspaper. Happy Thanksgiving!
32
What a beautiful piece! It reminds me of why I cherish all my old family things and don't want anything else. Not that they are valuable, but they bring back memories of those I have lost and will keep in my heart forever. Thanks so much .
23
I have a painting that was done by my grandmother as well as one of her poems that she wrote. I always give her the credit for any creativity that comes out of my mind.
12
If only all families were so quaint and endearing. I'm sadly reminded of the almost immediately deceased Brandon Lee when he places a fist full of wedding rings into a shotgun and fires them at a pawn broker soaked in gasoline. "I repeat: a gold engagement ring."
I'm not sure I want to carry the weight of my history's burden as a physical accessory. One ring is plenty for me. I can understand that much. Five and I would sink to the bottom of the ocean. I know enough about my ancestors to know enough about my ancestors.
If wearing rings makes you feel better, good for you. Personally, I think Tolkien had some thoughtful guidance on the matter of rings. I know exactly where I dropped my one first ring. I'll never get it back but I couldn't have chosen a better place to say goodbye. The mourning process is much easier when the bottom is very well understood.
Concerning the ring, I'm speaking literally about the bottom of a very deep lake.
Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies,
Farewell and adieu dear, ladies of Spain...
12
Another bitter Monday news day rescued because of your column. Thank you Ms. Renkl.
33
Yes, I have been left a ring also by my maternal grandmother which my daughter now proudly wears.
Margaret Renkl lovely, soulful writer is a grace in my life and I am sure in many others.
18
In one swell foop, all the men involved get brushed aside. Barely an honorable mention for the all men these women loved.
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@Rockaway Pete - Don't be offended Pete. There was no slight in Ms. Renkl's story to the fathers and husbands. Just as there is, I believe, sometimes a special bond between father and son, there is also between mothers and daughters. This does not mean a daughter's love for her father is any less.
Besides, our fingers and hands are smaller than men's. Our father's rings get left to our brothers. It's all of a piece - the passing of a bond of love to those loved ones we leave behind - that we never forget, and frequently draw strength from.
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@Rockaway Pete This piece is about the ties that bind women through the generations, and the strength that women gather when contemplating their mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers, and so on. There is much more to women's lives than male attention and the contemplation thereof, and the rich matrilineal tapestry is worthy of exploration.
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@rockawaypete: She’s writing about her matriarchs— that’s the whole point. Which apparently you missed. . .
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This is just one more reason my subscription to the New York Times is such a bargain.
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Ms. Renkl, thank you so much for sharing this with us all today. When every day under the political clouds and thunder that rend and shake many of us, your words are always a salve for the heart and soul.
It's what those rings symbolize - the love, decency, strength and courage they lived by and instill in us. They carry the day, gird us for the challenges we have and will face, and most importantly, remind us that we're not alone.
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love your column! loved today's about the rings and the continuity of strong wonderful women in your family which made me think of the strong wonderful women in mine. but really i've just been meaning to tell you that you are wonderful and how much much i have thought of you recently. we are native californians who have lived mostly by the beach in los angeles but also in oregon and washington. i've been reading your column for years and enjoying it hugely and as a way to look into the life of another part of the country we would never live in and didn't think we would understand. well, life is life and we moved in october to gallatin near nashville to be next door to our son and his family. the fall that you have written about, we are experiencing. we set up a bird feeding station and are seeing some of the birds you have written about. seeing the trees and creeks and wildlife on our property. because of your words over the years, i feel more at home than i thought i might. thank you!!
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Ms Renkl, please keep writing. Your prose is beautiful and always moving. I am sure that your insight and skill with your art flows to you through those many good women that you revere.
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Lovely. Thank you.
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Wow, Boris here with gratitude for the matriarchs in my life who saved it. Raised on a series of military bases, my father's sudden traumatic death, sent us home to the stable embrace of my grandmother and great aunt who provided the stable platform we needed to survive and even thrive. The men in my family served as entertaining blowhards. It was the women who made sure we made it.
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@Boris and Natasha "The men in my family served as entertaining blowhards"
Including your father who served in the military? Enough of the male bashing.
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@Dave In his thoughtful comment, Boris was relaying information about his own family, not men in general. And while we should of course have great appreciation for military service, those who serve are not immediately declared perfect beings. They, too, can be blowhards, especially to their own family members. And I keep seeing similar comments about "man bashing" when that is so clearly not the case. If one is determined to feel aggrieved, they should at least choose appropriate examples.
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@Dave: let them tell their story, sharing their experience. Many of us come from families that feature a slew of dysfunctions on the male (or female) side of the equation, and it’s up to us how we wish to deal with it. Their story, not yours.
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I was blessed to have worked with my mom in labor that involved the skilled, rigorous use of our hands. We shared trials and triumphs, and would often talk about how our hands had so many similar characteristics. Doris worked her whole life with her hands, from stitching parachutes for soldiers in World War II, to raising two sons, and engaging in heavy, industrial sewing into her mid 80's.
As I held her hands on her deathbed, while we peacefully talked about her life, I marveled at their grace, and still powerful beauty. Thanks for your remembrance Margaret, you are a brilliant storyteller of ordinary, beautiful things.
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Margaret, Thank you, yet again, for another beautiful commentary. I too call upon the strong women who raised me. Not only the Matriarchs of my family, but the Teachers, friends, and employers who have helped me along the way. Also to the other readers, who have shared their own lovely stories.
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I too have family wedding rings and wear them to remember my ancestors and feel them close. Lovely, poignant piece....thank you.
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Late Migrations was one of the most sensitive books I’ve read. You do great honour to your family, your parents, in-laws. Thank you.
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Beautiful writing, spoke to me on a personal level after losing my mom a few months ago. Many thanks to the author.
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@Tiffany M I'm so sorry for your loss. I hope the happy memories of times together with your mom can give you strength.
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@Tiffany M
I am deeply sorry for your most recent loss.
May her memories help soften the sadness you feel today and bring you comfort and peace down the road.
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I always think of my Grandparents at difficult times, I even pray to them when things are dire. I imagine my grandfathers, one island hopping in the Pacific War, the other over Berlin in a B-24. Makes my problems seem like Cadillac Problems.
The "Full disclosure" paragraph could have been dispensed with.
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@Sean "Makes my problems seem like Cadillac Problems"
I am glad someone has a realistic perspective these days. I find it absurd all the complaining and gnashing of teeth going on. Yes we have our difficulties, but we have it very good and easy compared to the past.
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@Sean
About the "Full disclosure" paragraph.....I appreciated her comment about "who the hell really cares". Perhaps this insight just comes with age, and menopause has nothing to do with it. But it's a very freeing thought when obsessing about little stuff.
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Very glad your talismans helped you...and loved your wonderful book. Thank you for another beautiful column.
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Thank you Margaret for sharing such a tender and powerful message. Our country has become recklessly divided by a derailed patriarchal system that became blinded by greed and an unquenchable desire fueled by self-interest. Your words quicken me to remember that it will be the women who nurture and birth a new era that redirects our country to embrace and empower the strengths of our wondrously diverse and colorful nation - our family of the United States. Calling all women - it is time!
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Disclosure: male, 70 plus. Hardly ever see wedding rings in daily life, on men or women. Couple of things may be operative (may be, no actual statistical basis). One, the symbol can indicate ownership, which is less popular. Two, the world of work has discouraged rings rather strongly for decades; neckties too.
When I was a kid, on Long Island, a large carbon rock was a necessity for the women in the community to signal certain things. Now, of course, we know that deBeers invented that concept and that those rocks are really just a controlled commodity rather than a legitimate currency.
So, looking forward, what tokens of the matriarchy will signal comfort and continuity? Heck if I know, but from the level of interaction, maybe ancient smartphones.
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@Marat1784 My parents wore identical rings. To me, they were a symbol of shared love and commitment to a relationship as partners through life.
I, as the author did, looked to one of those rings for strength. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I was scared and alone and missing the support of my parents who were gone so many years ago.
My mom's ring was too small for me. So I put on my dad's wedding ring. In so many pictures of him, that wide band is visible on his finger. It immediately felt like a big hug. I wear it all of the time now.
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Thank you for this letter to ones invisible champions. I often feel and call on my very much long passed grandmother and the woman who helped raise me to see me through the valleys of life. They support me in a way that can only be described as magical, magical thinking or not.
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Thank you for such a beautiful essay Ms Renkl. It is deeply appreciated.
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What a thoughtful article. We sometimes forget where our strength comes from. This was a lovely reminder.
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This piece reminds me of what I think about sometimes: nostalgia, time, memory and how these forces often intersect in our own lives to create powerful emotions, such as those that are displayed in this piece. The end of this essay really had me moved. There probably comes a time in everyone's life when, upon reflection, a person looks at his or her own hands and sees the transient yet powerful remnants of someone long gone physically, but still there in many other forms, even in the self.
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Margaret's writing is beautiful and powerful. It's a delight to read any day, but it makes Mondays, the start of work week, less dreadful.
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@Marla I've said the same thing. Margaret lifts a Monday better than anyone.
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Thank you so much for this beautiful article on family matriarchs. I often think of the matriarchs in my own family and how they survived wars, economic crises, famine and wartime imprisonment. If current research is correct we are finding that their fortitude is present in the DNA of subsequent generations. I, for one, can attest to that.
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