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.
