Post by Lona Bailey on Sept 9, 2018 22:14:39 GMT -8
Fire Holder
Based on a true story
Last month, my husband Chris and I celebrated the 8 year anniversary of the day we met. Technically we met for the first time in July 2010, but we were a month late in celebrating because we had been on a deserted jungle island called “NICU” for 130 days, with an additional 90 days of quarantine before being able to go home with our new, blue eyed miracle.
We celebrated by arranging a sitter and having a night out in my hometown- a place I’d been so homesick for all those months fighting for every second, every breath in isolation with our baby born 4 months too early. Chris and I talked and laughed over dinner at a hometown delicacy, and ate ice cream afterward in an abandoned parking lot while scratching lotto tickets we bought with loose change we found in the seat. After we celebrated the $2 we won from the state of Tennessee, we went back home and Chris said he had a surprise for me waiting in the kitchen. When I walked in there was a fresh bouquet of flowers on the counter next to a small gift bag. Inside the bag was a little gold box. I cautiously opened it knowing a jewelry surprise gift wasn’t typical of Chris or our bank account. Upon popping the top and unfolding the tissue paper, staring back at me was the most beautiful golden flower brooch with tiny red stones in the middle. I immediately knew the significance even without reading the paperwork inside the bag that told of its authenticity in being worn by Amanda Blake on “Gunsmoke.” My hands trembled as I lightly held it. It was heavy and aged, and I felt like I was holding a piece of history I wasn’t supposed to admire so. I am 30. Amanda passed from this life when I was only 2 years old. Yet there I was holding a souvenir of hers from another time, another world I wasn’t supposed to be able to appreciate, yet I do.
The brooch stays carefully folded in the white tissue paper in that little gold box safely inside the clutch I carry with me everywhere. I mostly just take it out sometimes to admire it or just feel the history on it. There was one day however I decided to wear it.
Chris and I took a much needed vacation with our new little one and some friends for Labor Day on Tybee Island, as we desperately needed to experience the openness of the sea. I spent most of our 5 day getaway on the beach catching my breath with a bottle of whiskey and sunscreen. My Irish skin got pretty sunburned and the last day we were on the island I stayed inside to peel in the a/c. Whiskey is never as good indoors, and I got bored around noon without it so I took a stroll down Butler to see the shops. Because I was so sunburned, I wore regular work clothes instead of beach bum threads. I had black slacks and a red and white button up blouse with my striped Clark’s as a nod to the British percentage of my DNA. I dug through my suitcase for matching jewelry and realized I had left most of it at home, and my blouse was looking pretty bare in the condo mirror. I had to have some type of accessory to “separate myself from the apes” as Tennessee Williams’ Blanche DuBois so eloquently advised. I remembered the brooch in my clutch and I hesitated because as beautiful as it is, it’s almost too special somehow to wear like any other accessory you could buy without the rich history. But I decided to wear it carefully, but proudly in paying homage to another time, another world, and another woman I have come to admire so. I fastened it securely thinking how I would never forgive myself if it detached somehow and I lost it - so far from home nonetheless. I mentally vowed to check often to make sure it was still secure.
Butler was bustling with tourists like me exploring the local wares and experiencing the market of the island.
I went in several shops on the main street, and almost turned to walk back toward the condo, but I saw one other store set back from the others. It appeared to be an antique store that looked very different from the rest of the shops. It was very old and house-like with merchandise bulging from the porch and front door that was ajar to welcome in customers. I curiously admired all the items I met as I took the porch steps up to the door. I heard a muffled ding when I opened the door and went in. A thin older lady sat behind a glass counter next to a staircase and peered at me over her glasses with her chin touching her chest. She welcomed me in and asked if I was looking for anything in particular. I thanked her but said I was really just exploring a little and my affinity for antiques piqued my interest when I saw the sign. We chatted smally as I teetered around sifting through items with my eyes in the the boxes and trunks and shelves. As I made my way toward the glass counter she was perched behind, I saw smaller antiques inside such as trinkets, jewels, necklaces, poison rings, bracelets, thimbles, and the like. I must have unconsciously swiped at my own brooch still clutching my blouse as I browsed.
“That’s a lovely piece you’re wearing there. I’ll be happy to read it for you if you’d like. Free of charge!” She said pushing her glasses up in their rightful position on the bridge of her nose.
“Read it?” I asked completely confused.
She motioned me over to the far side of the counter where she had a table lamp and tray of jeweler’s eye loupes. She sat on a stool under the lamp and offered me a seat.
“One of my many talents is reading antiques, much like a gypsy might read tea leaves or a person’s palm. Of course if I could read customers as well as antiques I’d have a lot more business Jerry tells me. Jerry’s my old man.”
“You mean you can know things about an item’s history just by studying it?” I asked skeptically.
“Free of charge,” she said again.
I carefully unlatched the brooch from my blouse and holstered the pin back before offering it to her inspection.
She gently took it and held it under the bright lamp, examining it with squinted eyes behind her glasses. She held a jeweler’s eye loupe up and sent me a glance before resuming her inspection.
“This has quite a history. Quite a history. It’s a rich piece for costume jewelry. Lovely as it is, my guess is you don’t wear it merely to match your outfit. There’s an imprint on this piece you’re drawn to. It would be easy enough to guess a family heirloom, but that’s not it.“ She shook her head still studying.
She turned the brooch over and over in her hand and brushed the red stones.
“I can tell you this was worn by a fierce woman full of spirit. Never starting a fight, but more than capable of finishing one,” She grinned.
“You’re sure right about that,” I agreed.
“These red stones. They match the fire red hair of the original wearer.” She pushed back her stool a little and narrowed her glasses toward me. “You’ve got some red in yours haven’t you?”
“When the light hits it right I do. I’m mostly Irish. I’m a little sunburned right now.” I laughed.
She was silent in her further study.
“This piece was made especially for the original wearer for an occasion or certain event I think. A replica of an earlier time. It’s a mimic of an 1800s piece, but it’s nowhere near that old. Probably made in the 1950s. The red stones were specifically chosen to match her red hair.”
I shifted on the stool, confused but so curious.
“You admire the woman who wore this yet you have it in your possession now never having met her. This piece found you somehow.”
“I’d like to think so. I do have a lot of admiration for Ms. Blake, the lady who used to have it, but she, well you’re right, we weren’t able to ever meet or anything because she died when I was only 2 and I learned about her a lot of years later and by then it was too late.”
“This woman was very unusual. She was fiery and passionate and has left a legacy behind her that almost seems to transcends time itself. What is it about this woman in particular that speaks so loudly to you?”
“I, I guess it’s just everything. I mean, she was classy, and tough, but compassionate and always seemed to know just what to do. I suppose those traits are what I wish to possess,” I admitted.
“And the brooch itself? What does it represent?”
“I, I guess it’s kinda like carrying a piece of that fire she had. It’s like a flicker from that I can have to myself,” I laughed. “I never really thought about it.”
The old lady smiled as she lowered the brooch from the lamp and handed it back to me.
“So it’s a fire holder? The more you wear it, the more you’ll get to know her,” she stated matter of factly. “You might find you have some things in common.”
“How can you tell all that from just checking that out seriously?” I asked amazed.
The old lady grinned. “Everything around us has a story to tell and is more than willing to tell it if you just know how to listen.”
I bunched my eyebrows together stumped at what she had just said.
“Wear it proudly. You’ve been at war for a longtime,” she stated.
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s written all over you,” she said.
I nodded. “Figures,” I said as I reattached the brooch.
“That brooch itself has no magic in the hands of someone who wouldn’t appreciate it, but you have the appreciation that can activate whatever magic it might hold. I don’t know exactly what kind of war you have just fought through, but I can tell it’s over. You’re weary, but you fought through it and came out a victor. Wear this proudly and tap into the flame it represents as much as you need to. You might be surprised how much of Amanda’s legacy is available to you.”
“How’d you know her name?” I asked.
The old lady chuckled. “I just listened. You may be surprised what you’ll learn if you keep wearing it. Holding it hostage in a keepsake box may seem safer, but this brooch isn’t finished collecting history.”
I nodded. “A fire holder huh?”
“That’s what it looks like to me,” she smiled.
This story is true up until the part where I enter the eccentric antique shop, although I did have a weird experience in a jewelry store in another city once where the old lady behind the counter told me things about myself that she had no way of knowing. It was super creepy in real life so I drew upon that experience for this fanfic. I have recently acquired a brooch worn by Ms. Blake in “Gunsmoke,” though I haven’t been able to determine the episode(s) in which she wears it. I do so much appreciate having something in my possession that she wore herself, as I know many fellow fans feel the same way about personal memorabilia they have from her legacy. I do think there is something very special about these items that we are able to carry with us into 2018 that once belonged to another time, another world, another woman. I am glad to share that appreciation with other fans. In whatever unique ways we each feel a connection to and appreciation of Amanda, we have the honor of carrying a little flicker of her fire with us into our own stories. This keeps her memory alive and that fire still blazing.
Based on a true story
Last month, my husband Chris and I celebrated the 8 year anniversary of the day we met. Technically we met for the first time in July 2010, but we were a month late in celebrating because we had been on a deserted jungle island called “NICU” for 130 days, with an additional 90 days of quarantine before being able to go home with our new, blue eyed miracle.
We celebrated by arranging a sitter and having a night out in my hometown- a place I’d been so homesick for all those months fighting for every second, every breath in isolation with our baby born 4 months too early. Chris and I talked and laughed over dinner at a hometown delicacy, and ate ice cream afterward in an abandoned parking lot while scratching lotto tickets we bought with loose change we found in the seat. After we celebrated the $2 we won from the state of Tennessee, we went back home and Chris said he had a surprise for me waiting in the kitchen. When I walked in there was a fresh bouquet of flowers on the counter next to a small gift bag. Inside the bag was a little gold box. I cautiously opened it knowing a jewelry surprise gift wasn’t typical of Chris or our bank account. Upon popping the top and unfolding the tissue paper, staring back at me was the most beautiful golden flower brooch with tiny red stones in the middle. I immediately knew the significance even without reading the paperwork inside the bag that told of its authenticity in being worn by Amanda Blake on “Gunsmoke.” My hands trembled as I lightly held it. It was heavy and aged, and I felt like I was holding a piece of history I wasn’t supposed to admire so. I am 30. Amanda passed from this life when I was only 2 years old. Yet there I was holding a souvenir of hers from another time, another world I wasn’t supposed to be able to appreciate, yet I do.
The brooch stays carefully folded in the white tissue paper in that little gold box safely inside the clutch I carry with me everywhere. I mostly just take it out sometimes to admire it or just feel the history on it. There was one day however I decided to wear it.
Chris and I took a much needed vacation with our new little one and some friends for Labor Day on Tybee Island, as we desperately needed to experience the openness of the sea. I spent most of our 5 day getaway on the beach catching my breath with a bottle of whiskey and sunscreen. My Irish skin got pretty sunburned and the last day we were on the island I stayed inside to peel in the a/c. Whiskey is never as good indoors, and I got bored around noon without it so I took a stroll down Butler to see the shops. Because I was so sunburned, I wore regular work clothes instead of beach bum threads. I had black slacks and a red and white button up blouse with my striped Clark’s as a nod to the British percentage of my DNA. I dug through my suitcase for matching jewelry and realized I had left most of it at home, and my blouse was looking pretty bare in the condo mirror. I had to have some type of accessory to “separate myself from the apes” as Tennessee Williams’ Blanche DuBois so eloquently advised. I remembered the brooch in my clutch and I hesitated because as beautiful as it is, it’s almost too special somehow to wear like any other accessory you could buy without the rich history. But I decided to wear it carefully, but proudly in paying homage to another time, another world, and another woman I have come to admire so. I fastened it securely thinking how I would never forgive myself if it detached somehow and I lost it - so far from home nonetheless. I mentally vowed to check often to make sure it was still secure.
Butler was bustling with tourists like me exploring the local wares and experiencing the market of the island.
I went in several shops on the main street, and almost turned to walk back toward the condo, but I saw one other store set back from the others. It appeared to be an antique store that looked very different from the rest of the shops. It was very old and house-like with merchandise bulging from the porch and front door that was ajar to welcome in customers. I curiously admired all the items I met as I took the porch steps up to the door. I heard a muffled ding when I opened the door and went in. A thin older lady sat behind a glass counter next to a staircase and peered at me over her glasses with her chin touching her chest. She welcomed me in and asked if I was looking for anything in particular. I thanked her but said I was really just exploring a little and my affinity for antiques piqued my interest when I saw the sign. We chatted smally as I teetered around sifting through items with my eyes in the the boxes and trunks and shelves. As I made my way toward the glass counter she was perched behind, I saw smaller antiques inside such as trinkets, jewels, necklaces, poison rings, bracelets, thimbles, and the like. I must have unconsciously swiped at my own brooch still clutching my blouse as I browsed.
“That’s a lovely piece you’re wearing there. I’ll be happy to read it for you if you’d like. Free of charge!” She said pushing her glasses up in their rightful position on the bridge of her nose.
“Read it?” I asked completely confused.
She motioned me over to the far side of the counter where she had a table lamp and tray of jeweler’s eye loupes. She sat on a stool under the lamp and offered me a seat.
“One of my many talents is reading antiques, much like a gypsy might read tea leaves or a person’s palm. Of course if I could read customers as well as antiques I’d have a lot more business Jerry tells me. Jerry’s my old man.”
“You mean you can know things about an item’s history just by studying it?” I asked skeptically.
“Free of charge,” she said again.
I carefully unlatched the brooch from my blouse and holstered the pin back before offering it to her inspection.
She gently took it and held it under the bright lamp, examining it with squinted eyes behind her glasses. She held a jeweler’s eye loupe up and sent me a glance before resuming her inspection.
“This has quite a history. Quite a history. It’s a rich piece for costume jewelry. Lovely as it is, my guess is you don’t wear it merely to match your outfit. There’s an imprint on this piece you’re drawn to. It would be easy enough to guess a family heirloom, but that’s not it.“ She shook her head still studying.
She turned the brooch over and over in her hand and brushed the red stones.
“I can tell you this was worn by a fierce woman full of spirit. Never starting a fight, but more than capable of finishing one,” She grinned.
“You’re sure right about that,” I agreed.
“These red stones. They match the fire red hair of the original wearer.” She pushed back her stool a little and narrowed her glasses toward me. “You’ve got some red in yours haven’t you?”
“When the light hits it right I do. I’m mostly Irish. I’m a little sunburned right now.” I laughed.
She was silent in her further study.
“This piece was made especially for the original wearer for an occasion or certain event I think. A replica of an earlier time. It’s a mimic of an 1800s piece, but it’s nowhere near that old. Probably made in the 1950s. The red stones were specifically chosen to match her red hair.”
I shifted on the stool, confused but so curious.
“You admire the woman who wore this yet you have it in your possession now never having met her. This piece found you somehow.”
“I’d like to think so. I do have a lot of admiration for Ms. Blake, the lady who used to have it, but she, well you’re right, we weren’t able to ever meet or anything because she died when I was only 2 and I learned about her a lot of years later and by then it was too late.”
“This woman was very unusual. She was fiery and passionate and has left a legacy behind her that almost seems to transcends time itself. What is it about this woman in particular that speaks so loudly to you?”
“I, I guess it’s just everything. I mean, she was classy, and tough, but compassionate and always seemed to know just what to do. I suppose those traits are what I wish to possess,” I admitted.
“And the brooch itself? What does it represent?”
“I, I guess it’s kinda like carrying a piece of that fire she had. It’s like a flicker from that I can have to myself,” I laughed. “I never really thought about it.”
The old lady smiled as she lowered the brooch from the lamp and handed it back to me.
“So it’s a fire holder? The more you wear it, the more you’ll get to know her,” she stated matter of factly. “You might find you have some things in common.”
“How can you tell all that from just checking that out seriously?” I asked amazed.
The old lady grinned. “Everything around us has a story to tell and is more than willing to tell it if you just know how to listen.”
I bunched my eyebrows together stumped at what she had just said.
“Wear it proudly. You’ve been at war for a longtime,” she stated.
“Is it that obvious?”
“It’s written all over you,” she said.
I nodded. “Figures,” I said as I reattached the brooch.
“That brooch itself has no magic in the hands of someone who wouldn’t appreciate it, but you have the appreciation that can activate whatever magic it might hold. I don’t know exactly what kind of war you have just fought through, but I can tell it’s over. You’re weary, but you fought through it and came out a victor. Wear this proudly and tap into the flame it represents as much as you need to. You might be surprised how much of Amanda’s legacy is available to you.”
“How’d you know her name?” I asked.
The old lady chuckled. “I just listened. You may be surprised what you’ll learn if you keep wearing it. Holding it hostage in a keepsake box may seem safer, but this brooch isn’t finished collecting history.”
I nodded. “A fire holder huh?”
“That’s what it looks like to me,” she smiled.
This story is true up until the part where I enter the eccentric antique shop, although I did have a weird experience in a jewelry store in another city once where the old lady behind the counter told me things about myself that she had no way of knowing. It was super creepy in real life so I drew upon that experience for this fanfic. I have recently acquired a brooch worn by Ms. Blake in “Gunsmoke,” though I haven’t been able to determine the episode(s) in which she wears it. I do so much appreciate having something in my possession that she wore herself, as I know many fellow fans feel the same way about personal memorabilia they have from her legacy. I do think there is something very special about these items that we are able to carry with us into 2018 that once belonged to another time, another world, another woman. I am glad to share that appreciation with other fans. In whatever unique ways we each feel a connection to and appreciation of Amanda, we have the honor of carrying a little flicker of her fire with us into our own stories. This keeps her memory alive and that fire still blazing.