There is a jeweler next-door to the office from where I deliver furniture. Last month they displayed a diamond said to be valued at $3 million. Three friendly, well-dressed men traveled here to remote Idaho, to help facilitate the diamond’s stopover in prosperous Sun Valley.
The three fine-suited men hailed from New York City. The eldest is a renowned expert on diamonds and answered with astute accuracy the most grandiose of gemstone questions I could dream up. Even the rough ones. Reportedly, the featured diamond is part of a larger collection. Word traveled fast in our small community and my furniture-moving colleague, who also contributes for Idaho newspapers, called his editor. Next thing you know; both of us scruffy galoots were in there joking with the photojournalist, about how we would like to buy one to spiff up each of our gal’s hands. Then we watched while he examined and photographed the valuable gem, which twinkled as if it was going to make a slight sound -luminous there by the lens cap in his meaty hand.
I looked around at the men in the suddenly crowded room and wondered, “Who’s packing heat?” -and other things along these lines. Surely these shrewd New York businessmen had planned ahead for any foreseeable problems and lugged along some “extra protection.” I speculated over this sphere of gemstone guardians, marveling that something so costly must certainly be accounted for and fortified by several trusted people at all moments. Almost the type of attention, which a newborn baby requires and should receive. I spent only a few compressed minutes in their shop, but it was enough to leave a lasting impression
The day after the men in nice suits flew back to New York -or wherever their next diamond-engagement was; I saw a front-page article on SFGate about the travails of a rare-coin courier who was transporting one dime worth nearly 2 million dollars.
This well-written tale of intrigue by Steve Rubenstein contained several synchronicities with how I had been imagining these tiny luxurious items must be transported. I felt compelled to share the story with our jeweler neighbors and so printed it up. Uncertain how the ladies would receive my story; part of me imagined that they might scoot me off, with tacit signals, or perhaps even press a concealed button to ensure my quick dismissal. Unaware of my secret identity, they may have not desired a conversation with what they perceived as my lower status.
However, that was not the case at all, as the UN-jaded ladies next door graciously received my discovered synchronistic story with heartfelt expressions of delight.
Next, thing I would like to tell them is that although the three-million dollar diamond is no longer contained in their shop, something more precious is, mainly the genuine smiles they exchange with passerby of all sorts, which makes those people instantly twinkle and then secretly whisper to themselves that they feel as though they are suddenly worth over three-million bucks.
Heh, Jim, I enjoyed your diamond-interaction story and enjoyed its cohesiveness and how it wrapped up and tied things together. It was an enjoyable read, refreshing, was just the right length, and coaxed me to bust out of the normal tedium of normal thought patterns. I liken it to eating an imported dark chocolate bar with almond or toffee bits or something... where it's henceforth a letdown to go back to the usual milk chocolate again.
ReplyDeleteAnd, to continue the metaphor in regards to the Wood River Journal, you realize that you don't remember where you came across that chocolate delicacy, and are not sure where, or if ever, your tastebuds will be in such nirvana again (Well, maybe the Idaho Conversation League could be your first search.)
I would have to say that even though WRJ powers decided to go "hard news", (doesn't that sound like a clean, pat little dismissive journalism cliche?) I would say that your last bit of writing for the WRJ was honestly, very good. I hope the Idaho Conversation League stays as vibrant as always.
Sorry that Danielle moved on, it's always kind of hard to lose a long-term friend who has seen you in every kind of mood across the years, and you've both done things from partying to the mundane tasks of helping each other out in every little life situation. But you didn't really lose; you have someone you can trust for life and show you a new habitation site with unquestioning hospitality, so really, it's just an evolution of friendship, though at first it probably feels like the Valley is a little emptier for the moment.
I am thankful that my Dad, at just the underside of age 80, looks forward to his part-time job in library research for his driveway neighbor, who has become a serious developer of uranium, a commodity that has jumped ferociously in value. Unfortunately, that probably has environmental consequences that will rise again, like an old serpent. But for now, the job allows my Dad to play golf a few days a week, and give determination to a job he's both good at and valued for. His investigatory skills and map interpretation skills have always been top-notch.
My sister Julie is about to pack up the kids, dog, gerbil and minivan it back to Colorado (just outside of Boulder) where her husband has been working for White Wave (Silk Soy milk company). She had to stay back in MA, oversee the sale of the house, and tend to the bills and the son and daughter, and everything else connected with the disarray of relocation.
Well, on the "milk chocolate" side of things, I had to pop for a washer and dryer to the tune of about $1500, but at least I pushed it up to the level of newer technology energy efficient ones, so maybe my utility bill will drop. On the "dark chocolate" side, at US Art, one of the unusual things we moved was a beat-up bent-up black mountain bike with flat tires, that looked like it had been run over by a truck. It was the original mountain bike that was damaged in a scene where dogs cause the bicycle rider to crash in the Disney movie "101 Dalmatians." It became known to the guys (as we drove it up to NY for the others to take on the California shuttle as simply the "movie bike."
The interesting thing about this job, beyond the road camaraderie, and running up the Eastern seaboard and then circumtuitously through the southern states, is you get to work with a lot of nice museum and art-conscious people, and get to see a lot of special out-of-the way stops such as FDR's "White House of the South" in Warm Springs, GA, where he soaked in the healing waters there. It's a hangout of his that's preserved in time. I tell you, GPS technology has come just in the nick of time for this gig, but I promise myself to not let it dull my map navigation skills.
We also get to enter some amazing households, not only of the wealthy, but of the more eccentric artists, and their studios. (Through one tangent, I've been web-researching the late Kent Bellows, lately) They are usually happy when we come to pack and ship, because that means usually they've sold something, or a series of something bound for Sotheby's in New York, or perhaps a collector.
Tomorrow, I do a run up through VA, Landover, MD, Long Island City, NY, and then meander back through the southern states, where ever our drop route takes us. Next month, I fly out to Dallas/Ft. Worth, and do a star run out from that US Art office for two weeks, the longest I have been out on the road. Not sure if I like that length of time on the road. My partner Jim flies up to Boston to drive back a new truck for us, but it's also a well-paying exclusive run from MA down to Epcot. When we do exclusives, we get a pay bonus, but the contents of the truck are never left unaccompanied, so it never stops, even for a motel overnight, nor does it stop to pick up any other item. It's a straight-through drive.
Some exclusives have such sensitive or expensive stuff on board, that we have a ride-along courier. We give them a courrier-pack with snacks, cold drinks, pillow/blanket, DVD player for the sleeper berth if they wish. (A courier is another interesting side job that exists in the art world with the bigger museums, if you can survive the Level II background checking.)
The new truck will be the usual Kenworth set up that runs over a 1000 miles on one fill-up of diesel, but it has an even larger more comfortable sleeper berth. My travel partner is Bill, age 59, non-smoker, into health food and mountain biking, and we keep the humor at a nice steady even pace. For now, the job is enjoyable and paying well, and I do have the option to work out of US Art hubs further out West if I want to, after a year of service. We open a new one near Seattle in the next year, but I might consider Dallas/Fort Worth as a stepping stone.
Well, I hope that you are thriving and enjoying the WRV sans-smoke and the gorgeous Fall weather is beckoning for those little Vibram sole escapes and mini-beer buzzes that make up fond memories for me as well. As you might guess, I'm hankering for a Westward visit again.
Take care, thanks again for the CommTek link, from the bits I've read, the weather cooperated, Redfish was beautiful for their get-together, and they had a good time. Organizer Judy Stoltzfus, I noticed left T-Graphics after over 20 years and started with Hawley Graphics. Let me know how Dani's doing at some point, and any new planvanholzers.....
Brad