Ringlessness

Dear George,

Katja and I got married at the Quaker chapel in Yellow Springs on August 28, 1960.  We drove to Dayton the month before to do some wedding purchases, including our rings.  Dayton’s three or four jewelry stores were on a single block on a downtown side street.  One of the shop owners had set up a table in front of his store, hawking items on sale.  We arranged to purchase two gold wedding bands from him, $19 apiece.  He had them inscribed “SKW - DCL, 8-28-60.”  

We left for graduate school a week after the wedding.  Three years later I was taking a social psychology seminar from Dr. Swanson in Mason Hall.  In the middle of a class session he said that the room was getting chilly and asked that someone close the window.  I stepped up on the windowsill, pulled the window down, and jumped back down to the floor.  Unfortunately my wedding ring got caught on the window latch, and, as I dropped to the floor, it tore the flesh half off of my ring finger before coming loose.  I was rushed to the emergency room, fantasizing that I would lose my finger and never be able to type again.  There goes my dissertation!  The male nurse tried to saw my ring off with a file but the ring was too strong.  After 30 or 40 minutes they sent me up to dental surgery, and the technician was able to cut my ring in two with a diamond drill.  He said that they have to cut a ring off a man’s finger at least once a week.  I decided that was it for me with wedding rings.  Happily my finger healed properly, and I was able to type again.  I still have the scar.  

Katja hasn’t been able to get her wedding band off for quite a long time, but that hasn’t bothered her.  Last week she went out to Sears to get some trashmasher bags.  Leaving the store, her open-toed shoe caught on the pavement, and she fell to the ground, landing on her left forearm.  She was able to drive to her scheduled massage, but the pain got too bad, and the massage therapist recommended going to the emergency room.  Katja came home, and we drove over to Good Sam.  The initial X-ray didn’t show a fracture, but, with all the bones in one’s hands, they couldn’t be 100% sure.  The doctor said that, because of the swelling, she would have to remove her rings.  The male technician successfully used lubricant to remove a recently acquired ring, but no luck with Katja’s wedding band.  He then used a ring cutter, though Katja’s ring was just as sturdy as mine had been.  Because of all the pain Katja was experiencing, this was a difficult procedure.  His first ring cutter broke, and he got a second one.  Finally success.  Leaving the two of us ringless of course.  

The episode was more distressing to me than you might think.  Aside from some photos and a few written documents, Katja’s wedding ring is the oldest physical object still in our possession.  Not only is it a symbol of our marriage, but it’s associated so directly with young love, our momentous step in getting married, our commerce with a sidewalk jewelry vendor, and all the other things going on with getting married at the time.   The destruction of Katja’s ring felt like the end of an era.  At least we had one wedding ring in the family, but now we are down to zero.  Probably a more encouraging approach is to think of it as a new beginning.  Katja even suggested that I might want to get a new wedding ring.  After 55 years without a wedding ring, I’m giving it some thought.   

Love,

Dave