That lost engagement ring I found? Inquirer readers respond with precious stories of their own. | Maria Panaritis
An unexpected outpouring of compassion shows all is not lost, even in this toxic age of anger.
Your emails were — how does one say this politely? — atypically kind.
Warm blooded but not out for blood. Compassionate and vulnerable. Not, in other words, what one often gets in this line of work anymore.
Several hundred thousand of you read my recent column online about finding a stranger’s engagement ring on a Delaware County sidewalk last week. About how that then led me to a discovery about my own family and several rings left behind by my long-deceased mom and dad. You shared precious nuggets about jewelry. About your own long-gone-but-never-forgotten family. About the stories — known and unknown — that remain alive in us through whatever trinkets were left behind after the people we loved died.
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Some of you asked for an update about the lost ring. (Still no luck, but then again the ring, I was told, is of very small monetary value.) Others asked for photos of the two other rings — from my own family — that made surprise cameos in the column. (I’ll respectfully decline.)
But stories? Your own? I couldn’t resist sharing, since each emailed reflection seemed precious in its own right:
Bernard, hometown unknown: “I just read you story about finding a ring, and my favorite word came to mind: Serendipity. Your story also reminded me of my Polish immigrant parents, whose lives I know little of, but I have learned they were both forced laborers in the 1940s. A few years ago, while cleaning out my late father’s house prior to selling the house, I came across a grocery bag of pictures and documents. Months later, I started to [examine] the documents. Many of them were from the International Refugee Organization. Based on all of the information on the documents, I was able to determine that my father was deported from Poland to Germany as a forced laborer in April of 1940, and my mother was deported from Poland to Germany as a forced laborer in December of 1941. From 1945 to 1951, my parents were in a number of different Displaced Persons camps. They eventually were in the same camp in 1947, had a few children, married in 1951, and arrived in America in January 1952 via a retired US Naval Ship. So, if you are looking for an article to write, make the topic ‘Finding out about our Parents’ lives while they’re still with us.’ Maybe for Mother’s day or Father’s Day, instead of giving a gift, ask one’s parents about their lives.”
Joe, Ontario, Canada: “I’m from Havertown, I graduated from Haverford High School in, umm, 1977. ... My Greek grandmother (the other side is South Philly Italian) and her second husband (from Samos) lived on State Road near Township Line, I now live and teach near Hamilton, Ontario and I check [inquirer.com] most days. ... I just wanted to thank you for reaffirming one of the reasons why newspapers still matter, and for sharing your touching story in such a beautifully written way. Christos and Panagiota would be very proud, but you know that already.”
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Christine from Doylestown: “Please post pix of the little ring with your parent’s birthstones! And the pearl when you get it back. I loved this story. My grandparents immigrated from Poland. My dad passed away from [COVID-19] in December. I am so trying to put together stories through his things and pictures. Those are so important to preserve for future generations.”
Elizabeth, hometown unknown: “I collect vintage and antique jewelry. Each item I acquire holds the unknown stories of previous owners and jewelry makers. I always take a moment to wonder about those stories and to give respectful consideration to the lives of these anonymous people. I am glad that you were able to recapture some of the mystery hidden within your own family jewelry.
Betsy, possibly from Philadelphia: “Thank you for the lovely article about your father and the ring. I have already given some of my memorable jewelry to my grandchildren so I can see the smile on their faces. Yesterday I gave my grandson, Jackson George, a safe driving award given to his great-grandfather ... for never having had an accident while driving a semi truck in Philadelphia.”
Meira, hometown unknown: “My parents came here as teenagers. We took a trip together and my mother left her engagement bracelet and wedding ring, which she never wore, in the hotel room by mistake. By the time we realized it and called, they were gone. It was in difficult times and I believe that the items were stolen. I remember the items with regret.”
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Donna, hometown unknown: “I also lost both parents within a year. I understand how precious it is to have their reminders. A grief counselor helped me tremendously by stating that we keep our loved ones alive by telling their stories.”
Brenna, hometown unknown: “Lovely story — I don’t know how the algorithm works but it was recommended to me this morning in my Google stories, and I’m so happy it was. Please wear them. Don’t keep them in a drawer. Keep them close and enjoy them both.”
Diane, hometown unknown: “My two sisters, my mom and I each have a small diamond from my grandmother’s wedding ring that our mother made into matching necklaces. It brings a sense of comfort and connection to know I wear something my Mom-Mom wore.”
Deanna, hometown unknown: “Your story states so many similarities to so many of us immigrants’ children — the silence of our parents’ stories. My father passed away several years ago. My mother is still here but shares so little about their past. Although we’ve always been in touch with both sides of the family here and overseas, there is an entire lifetime my parents had here in the States that they just never shared with us kids. Since my father died, my mother has been giving me a piece of jewelry every birthday and giving me a small snippet of a story with each piece. And just as you stated, these pieces are priceless. Regardless of the stone, regardless of the setting, they are just irreplaceable.”