I recently bought a jewelry armoire with money my mother had given me for Christmas. Over time, I've accumulated more and more jewelry until the small box that sat on top of my dresser just wasn't cutting it anymore. Particularly in the past couple years, I've enjoyed purchasing handmade pieces from a distant cousin who has her own business making big, chunky sets of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. I literally kept these newest pieces in a pile on my nightstand, having no other home for them. So I happily bought the pretty, handpainted armoire and then spent a couple hours organizing my jewelry to my heart's content.
As I organized, I realized that I own several bracelets which have special significance to me. Two of them originally belonged to my Aunt Alyce. Alyce was a petite, dark-haired, dark-skinned woman from Lebanon, and I thought she was absolutely beautiful. She had a wide smile and her laugh reminded me of pealing bells. She was always nicely dressed and she loved jewelry, often adorning her arms with bracelets. Alyce lived in New Mexico, and several pieces of her jewelry were turquoise and silver. None of it was costume. A very generous person by nature, it gave her great pleasure to gift pieces of her jewelry. My mother once commented on the beauty of a bracelet Alyce was wearing, which had alternating pieces of mother-of-pearl and rose quartz set in a wide silver cuff. Much to my mother’s chagrin, Alyce absolutely insisted on giving her the beautiful bracelet. After my mother quit wearing much of her jewelry, she in turn gave it to me. Another time, Alyce showed me a turquoise row bracelet, saying she wanted me to have it. It's a wide, stamped sterling silver bracelet set with a single row of turquoise stones. I’ve worn both bracelets many times. It always makes me smile to think of the delight Aunt Alyce got from wearing her jewelry and the joy she derived from giving it to others.
Another bracelet that lies glistening in my new armoire is an intricately beaded sterling silver bangle that I received unexpectedly at a family reunion several years ago. Rosie is a distant relative who plans the Riley family reunions each July in Flagstaff, Arizona. If it weren’t for her, the reunions probably wouldn’t even happen. She’s the outgoing, central figure who seems to know everyone and faithfully takes care of all the arrangements. She and her husband Merle, now deceased, owned an Indian trading post near Gallup, New Mexico. After I began tracing my family tree several years ago and met my distant cousin Darlene, I attended my first Riley reunion and met Rosie for the first time. Up until then, nobody had researched the Riley family roots. When Darlene and I shared the information we had uncovered, the annual reunion attendees were a rapt and interested audience. I’ve returned to the reunions a few times since then and have even gotten my parents and my cousins Tom and Marilyn to go. The last reunion I attended, Rosie presented me with the silver bracelet from her trading post as a thank you for all the hours I’ve spent researching the family. Her thank you wasn’t necessary; it was a labor of love for me. But I’m honored to own the bracelet and proud of what it represents.
Finally, a silver linked bracelet with multi-colored stones is nestled inside one of my armoire’s compartments. The stones are in what I call “Easter egg colors”—mint green, light yellow, pastel pink, and baby blue. When my mother still lived in Florida and I was traveling down there once a month to help her, she surprised me with the bracelet on one of my trips. She had attended a jewelry party in her neighborhood and decided to buy it for me as a thank you for all I had done for her. I knew that, being blind, she had probably spent a great deal of time feeling each piece of jewelry and asking someone to describe the various items to her. In her mind’s eye, she decided this bracelet was perfect for me, and I was deeply touched by the gesture.
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