Ruby Ring With Diamond Clusters
“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me.”
How many of us recall this childhood ditty? Have recited it either to our younger selves or to a child? The saying first emerged in England in 1894, and is commonly used to make children feel resilient in the face of verbal bullying; words are not able to hurt. This is not true. Words carry significant weight. When used by a contemporary bully, words are weapons to shame or embarrass people, incite violence, create concerns about safety, or faith in our institutions. These are pointed attacks, shrugged off with a reliance on “first amendment”, as though the amendment allows us to hurt people since it’s “only words” and we can say what we want. These are delivered daily through loud systems that are hard to avoid. Printed news, news spread through sound waves and through the megaphone of the internet. These words are the weapon of bullies. And I have never been able to stand a bully.
When I was in elementary school in Darien, CT, there was a girl a grade ahead of me with the unfortunate name of Francis Freeman. In retrospect I think she had some significant health issue as she clearly had physical problems and had the added disadvantage of having matured sooner than the rest of us – meaning she was tall, curvy, and had seizures of some type. I was likely in 5th grade – so maybe 10 – when at recess one day the boys had formed a circle around Francis and were taunting her. Childhood is painful enough for young women with the handicaps Francis had, and I was angry the boys were being so mean. I broke into the circle and began to punch them, allowing Francis to get away. I do not recall the likely trip to the school office, but I do know I never was punished. Standing up to bullies is not always easy, as words may not deflate their power. A nice solid punch can certainly do the trick when you’re ten, though at my current age, throwing punches is frowned upon.
And what, pray tell, does this have to do with the charming piece of art portrayed above? This painting speaks to me of childhood, and the recognition that words can both wound and heal. The work is painted on a wood board, and is signed with initials “EDL”. I picked her up at a local flea market many years ago from a dealer who finds wonderful vintage artwork (Dale’s Upstairs Gallery, Racine, WI). I love the remarkably brief use of lines to sketch out a face amid the soft color wash across the surface. It is a face of a young girl with a long pony tail, and a little curl escaping down her forehead. The technique used is not one I am familiar with, though I suspect gesso, and guess c.1920. I could be way off base on this one as it is just a hunch and one that honestly does not matter. It is the little curl that speaks to me.
As a child, I was not known for being particularly cooperative. In fact, I suspect both my parents let out a loud guffaw from heaven at that remarkable understatement. I was a strong-willed child, often in trouble from my not very emotionally-sensitive parents. They had 6 other children, and my siblings for the most part were brilliant students who behaved as required by my very strict father. I did not. My father would say “A’s were average, B’s were bad”: my siblings all got A’s. I went for C’s. Dad would say “go right”, and I would stick out my tongue and go left. I would be spanked, of course, as this was the 1960s, but it never stopped me. What did stop me was my mother’s words.
To encourage positive behavior, she would often site a Henry Longfellow poem from 1887 in a sing song tone (being able to sing is NOT one of our family’s strengths):
“There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very very good, but when she was bad she was horrid”.
A peculiar childhood rhyme, and one that does not end well for the rambunctious girl as her parents “did spank her most emphatic”. Mom never cited the last few stanzas, which is ironic as those actually do reflect my childhood experience. That said, mom’s use of the “little girl with a little curl” made me pause.
I didn’t want to be considered horrid, so the alternate path was to be very, very good. Highly unlikely, but an aspiration certainly if I wanted my parents’ approval. I confess this was not often inducement enough, though the fact I still recall it makes me realize it is like a sound worm – something that stays with you, imbedding itself in your consciousness. Let’s be honest here, the words are not actually all that emotionally encouraging for a young girl. Longfellow certainly did not like girls to be exuberant; behavior he indicated prompted spanking.
Another childhood ditty my mother would say does not seem to be a common one. I suspect it was handed down to her from her mother, Freda Hermes Fallon (1898-1961) – a single mother in the Depression in Chicago who had ridiculously expensive taste. Mom would encourage me to get ready for bed, and then decide what I earned as she tucked me in. I might have earned a “ruby ring”. If I was a bit more stellar in her estimation, I would earn a “ruby ring with diamonds clusters”. The crème de le crème was to earn a “ruby ring with diamond clusters and an emerald on top”. Mind you I was likely 5 as I recall these silly games, but dang did I want that ruby ring with diamond clusters and an emerald on top.
Amusingly, I have often used a similar phrase with hubby, but with a twist. When we are joking about me having done something he appreciates, I will jest that the diamond bracelet he is getting me for a gift just got bigger. We laugh, but underneath the laughter I recognize the childhood desire to please. Simple words that my children I’m sure have overheard and dismissed as silly. But words are not silly. They have power and can be used as a weapon. Or they can open hearts with encouragement, with humor and with love.