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With This Ring
October 16, 2004 | Category: Family, It's a Trip
It is a cold and dark and blustery day in Chicagoland. The three of us burrowed under the down comforter this morning until the last possible minute. Reluctantly Bear and I dropped CD off at work.
"Where are we going to go now?" Bear asked me as I turned onto Lake Shore Drive.
Good question.
Picture by Elizabeth: Runner on Lake Michigan, 10/2004
The lake was deep green and almost deserted. Navy Pier was lit up like a neon sign. So I swung into the $19 parking lot and in we trundled - over, over, around the strange singing people, and up the escalator to the Children's Museum.
Bear liked everything: the dinosaur dig, the water works, the construction zone, the ambulance and safety display, but his absolute favorite thing was Clifford's world.
He strapped on an official mail bag and delivered and picked up letters from the mailboxes scattered throughout the display. Then he would sort them at the 'Birdwell Post Office'. Giggle, concentrate, triumphantly match, rinse, repeat.
Picture by Elizabeth: Bear in Birdwell Post Office, 10/2004
I was struck by how many Dads were there. Usually, Bear and I hit the Children's Museums (we have a national membership) during the week when, and not to be sexist but reality is what it is, there is hardly a dad to be found.
Today, though, it was Dads-aplenty. All ages, sizes, colors, and shapes. And wedding rings galore. Big yellow gold numbers, thin silvery ones, and all kinds in between.
As Bear did his rounds back and forth, I watched families sifting around us. I smiled as one man gently tucked a strand of hair behind his wife's ear, the engraving of his ring catching the light. Another man, handsome and leather jacketed, enwined his fingers with his wife's and then pulled them up so he could kiss the back of her hand.
I laughed as one dad with gold practically down to his knuckle laid down in submission on the floor while his 3 boys (THREE!) pounced all over him. His wife held their pile of coats and tried to stifle a laugh as her man caught an accidental knee to the groin. His "oof!" had 20 of us, nearby, in a compassionate group groan.
I missed CD, and thought about how much fun he'd have with us. I thought about how his ring would join the tonnage of husbands' rings in the room. I thought about how profound and sacred it is to push a ring on someone's finger and claim them as your mate.
It's that moment. That intimate, vulnerable moment when the question is asked - "will you? me?". A wedding ring shouts "yes"!
In my religion we call it 'an outward symbol of an inward grace'.
I know not all cultures use them. My parents never wore wedding rings in the 22 years they were married. So I have no idea how I come by this... conviction. But there is something about them that resonates deep in my soul.
On an autumn night a long time ago, I once danced on a sidewalk under a streetlight to Anita Baker's Giving you the Best That I got as it echoed out to us from a party. I remember getting choked up at the line "I bet everything on my wedding ring".
I still get choked up when I hear that line.
Shaking off my thoughts, I saw that the big dog himself had showed up for an interview with a television crew. Bear informed me that the “guy in the Clifford costume� gave him "a bad feeling" so we put away the postal tools and moved on.
Picture by Elizabeth: Clifford, 10/2004
Bear held my hand, and twirled my ring.
I smiled to myself.
Back on the road, the hard winds rocking the van at the stoplight, dang if that Anita Baker song didn't come on the radio. Guess I was in synch with somebody out in radioland.
I sang loudly and badly as we looped out of Navy Pier. I got choked up at the end like I always do. The streets felt almost deserted. The wind was pushing aginst the few people out on the sidewalks. The threatening sky was a dark ceiling overhead, and I wondered if we'd make it hom before the rain hit.
Picture by Elizabeth: Leaving Navy Pier, 10/2004
“Mommy?� Bear asked, puffy-eyed and tired in the back seat.
“Yes, Bear?� I answered, turning down the music.
“Next time, we should bring Daddy. OK? Does that sound like a good idea?�
“That sounds like an excellent idea,� I agreed.
And I thought of CD, wearing my ring as he worked. A physical, visible, unspoken announcement that he is a part of me, wherever he is. And me, a part of him.
And we... a part of him.
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