Promise Ring

I've wanted to write about this for a bit, but never got around to it. I'm killing time before work, so there's no time like the present, I suppose.

I have this ring. It's more special to me than any other piece of jewelry I own. Now, rings serve as cultural symbols of significance for so many reasons: promise rings, engagement rings, wedding rings. But, all of those are about a relationship one has with another person. Mine is about my relationship with myself, which makes it far more important than any of those others in my mind.

Outwardly, it doesn't look all that noteworthy... just gold with a big black oval in the middle, but my god, is it amazing. It was my grandmother's college graduation ring. I wish I could say that's the reason it's so significant, but unfortunately, my grandmother passed away when I was two, so I really didn't have that opportunity like many do to get to know her or cherish her. I only have very faded, foggy stillframes in my recollection of her.

Giving up on one's dreams is in my genetics, you see. My grandmother was a college graduate in a time when most women didn't even attend post-secondary schooling. She was vastly interested in the arts, and eventually obtained a position working for the box office of the Pittsburgh Playhouse. She was a beautiful, lovable, charming woman, and the celebrities and socialites that passed through definitely took note. She befriended some of Hollywood's most elite members, and she was invited to move to New York as the roommate of one such woman to begin her career. However, around this time, she met my grandfather, and began to feel the pressure of conventions and expectations. She abandoned her dreams to settle down and have a family, and thus, my mother was born.

My mother was vastly interested in the arts, and she had friends with friends in high places. She sung, played guitar, piano, wrote her own songs, and dabbled in comedy. She performed at open mic nights around the city. She recorded demos. After giving a comedic speech at a friend's wedding, a higher-up at a comedy television show (one that gave birth to the careers of most of the early SNL stars, like Gilda Radner) approached her, asking her if she'd be interested in submitting a demo. When she told him that she was more interested in singing, he said he could help her out in that venture as well, and he told her to record and send him a demo. However, before sending him the demo, she played it for her parents (my grandparents) who were terribly harsh and told her it was awful. And, there it was. She didn't even send it. She gave up.

Now, here I am, on the threshold of something beyond what I could have ever hoped for. Again, as in generations passed, I am attempting to break into the arts. Despite the self-doubt everyone experiences as an artist, I truly feel that if I press onward and put enough effort into it, my chances of success are high. However, in those moments of self-doubt, I consider just giving it all up, and that's when that ring comes into play. It's my reminder to not follow in the footsteps laid down before me, to not become the third generation to hold promise and throw it away. I want to make it, not just for myself, but for my mother and my grandmother... I'll make it for all three of us and pay homage to these two amazing women that came before me.

That little piece of gold reminds me that it's possible.
It's my promise ring with myself.
I promise to not give up, no matter how difficult the going gets.
I promise myself.
I promise my mother.
I promise my grandmother.
I won't let us down.