New Haven Independent

A birthday recollection about earrings, missed trips, and pierced memories.

April 24, 2006

When I was young, the agreement I had with one of my mom’s best friends, Lynne, was that on my 16th birthday she would take me to Tiffany’s in New York to get my ears pierced. I think it was her way and my mom’s way to ensure I was of proper age to start wearing jewelry. But it never happened. When I was 12, and my dad was sick, we went to the mall one day; I took advantage of our time together and convinced him to let me get my ears pierced. He said it was fine with him, but that I needed to call my mom and tell her I was going against our agreement. “You realize you won’t go to Tiffany’s. You realize you’re going to get Lynne really upset,” she said to me over the phone. Since I had never been to Tiffany’s and therefore had no idea what “going to Tiffany’s” meant, I didn’t really know how much it would upset Lynne; and frankly, when you’re 12 and on the verge of getting something you want, all allegiances to anything other than what you want go out the window. “Yes, I know.” And 20 minutes later, I had two gold studs poking out of my bright red lobes. My mother wasn’t thrilled. She made me get on the phone and tell Lynne what I had done, during which conversation my face turned as red as my ears. (Years later, when I got my tongue pierced, she wasn’t thrilled either. In fact, the woman pushed me out of the house—“literally—“and I had to spend the night at my friend’s house.) I think of Tiffany’s every time I put earrings on now. My pierced ears are the combined memory of upsetting my mom’s best friend and of spending time with my father—“they are my own guilty pleasure. I have two permanent marks now, of a particular moment with my father. The fall after he took me to the mall, my dad gave me a pair of scallop shell earrings, two tiny sterling silver things he’d found at a local market. I treasured them and wore them all the time. Until I lost them somewhere in my travels. Months ago, I told Dennis about my missed Tiffany’s trip and about my scallop shell earrings. I told him how much I’d regretted not going to Tiffany’s and fulfilling my agreement with Lynne, but how much I love my pierced ears because they were a precise memory of my dad. On Saturday, my birthday, as we were eating breakfast in his kitchen, Dennis asked me to tell me that story again about Tiffany’s. I rambled on a little about the details between bites. I was still talking about it as we headed downstairs to the living room, when I noticed a little blue bag sitting on the top step of the staircase. Dennis, who had walked down ahead of me, continued moving down, but I froze. It was a Tiffany’s bag, that unmistakable blue. It is a silver necklace, with a silver circle pendant hanging from it. It sits against my chest, solid and heavy, and it’s called an Eternal Circle; one side looks fuller than the other. As we were driving home last night from work, I pulled out the necklace again to look at it. “It looks like a yin and yang symbol,” I said, and he agreed. “It’s about balance, I guess.” And at the same time we said, “It’s full and empty.” That fullness and emptiness reminded me of how I’ve felt so often this year and of how I imagine next year will be: fulfilling a dream while feeling empty without the people I love. And now, as I write this, it reminds me of my ears. My pierced ears are a symbol of the promise I broke with Lynne and the richness of the memory of my father. Dennis probably doesn’t know how much I read into this pendant itself, but he certainly knows how much that blue bag symbolizes for me. I think every once in a while, you meet someone you want to tell the world about. I feel really lucky to be able to do that.

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