Charmed, I’m Sure-Part One

I collect charm bracelets.  My love of this particular piece of jewelry stems from my childhood.  When my parents were courting back in the 1940’s, my dad only saw my mother on the weekends when he came home from college.  Since he missed her very much while they were apart, he showed his affection for her each weekend by presenting her with a little silver charm for her charm bracelet.  Over the months, she collected dozens of these small tokens of his affection.  The charms are, well… they are charming.  There is a little waffle iron that opens and shuts, a toaster that pops up toast, a pack of matches that opens up, false teeth, a meat grinder (!), a wind mill, a pistol, and lots other things.  When the time comes to divide up my mother’s belongings amonst my four sisters and I, there is going to be major bickering over who gets this special item.

The first charm bracelet of my own, my dear husband gave to me.  It is a bracelet made by a well known Native American jewelry designer named Ray Tracy.  I am fortunate to have it, not only because it is lovely, but because Mr. Tracy has now retired and no longer makes jewelry for sale to the general public.

This bracelet attracted quite a bit of unwelcome attention in Ireland when we were there three or four years ago.  My husband, son and I were at the Dublin train station, and my two men wandered off to look at maps and schedules, leaving me standing alone with our luggage.  As soon as they were out of sight, I was immediately surrounded by a group of young men and women of shall we say, a rather rough sort.  They began by admiring my charm bracelet, wanting to examine each of the charms, then progressed to actually *touching me*.  They all talked at once, and between the jabbering and unwelcome touching of my jewelry and my person, I was feeling totally overwhelmed.  I knew this technique is commonly used by pickpockets and thieves, so I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have my bracelet or our luggage for much longer.  Luckily, my husband and son noticed what was happening to me and rushed back to my aid, scattering the Irish thugs.  Scary!

(Note:  I am on vacation until April 5, so I won’t be able to respond to your comments until then).