Who
would have thought that half a century later I would be putting into practice
something that I learned from grandma when I was very little? But it was undeniable; the proof was there
on my annular finger.
One of my happiest childhood memories is of summer at grandma’s farm. For a city boy, life in the farm was full of
surprises, fun, and grandma’s love.
Grandma didn’t have the conveniences of city life. In those days, there was no electricity, no television; I don’t even remember a clock. The only high-tech device I remember is a transistor battery-operated radio, which was dead most of the time and in need of new batteries.
Grandma didn’t have the conveniences of city life. In those days, there was no electricity, no television; I don’t even remember a clock. The only high-tech device I remember is a transistor battery-operated radio, which was dead most of the time and in need of new batteries.
I remember one otherwise insignificant
detail (insignificant until now): Grandma didn’t have pens and paper or an
agenda to write down the things she had to do and had to remember. She simply
knew. But sometimes, there was a very important thing that could not be left up
to memory, and she would tie a piece of string around her annular finger. Nowadays, I use post-it notes. They are all over my desk, my computer monitor, and my car
dashboard.
Days ago, while walking by a jewelry
store at the mall, the rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings caught my
attention, and I suddenly realized the convenience and cleverness of Grandma’s system. She could take her piece of string tied on her finger everywhere
she went, even to the shower. I can’t bring my post-it notes with me all the
time; it would be ridiculous to stick them to my forehead, my cheeks, or my
clothes, and a piece of string around my finger would be even funnier. But, all of
a sudden, I realized there was an alternative: A ring would do!
I stepped into the store and bought an
amber ring of a colour that matches my skin; it is hard to notice. And there
it is, on my annular finger, all the time, wherever I go. But contrary to what
grandma’s piece of string meant to her, a reminder of the things she had to do,
for me, the amber ring is a reminder of the things I don’t have to do, must not
do, should not do, can not afford to do again, if I am to survive in this
world. I am talking about self-destructive behaviour, like, falling in love
with the wrong woman.
