"Plink"

One summer when I was about four years old, I remember hanging out with a few older boys in the neighborhood. They were sitting by the storm drain, throwing rocks and bottle caps and junk into the sewer. We’d toss them in like tiddily winks and we knew they landed when they “plinked” on the concrete floor.  We stared at the shiny objects settled in the shallow murky water.  Steve, the neighborhood bully challenged me to a dare and I was game.  I impulsively took the little gold ring off my pinky and dropped it right into the mess.  It seemed like an eternity, but I finally heard the delicate “plink” which meant my teeny tiny pinky diamond ring was afloat in muck far below the street. 

The guys immediately started taunting me, “How could you throw a diamond ring in the sewer?  I shrugged.  I didn’t have an answer and it just started to dawn on me that I might be in a little bit of trouble.  In my mind, I thought there might be a way to get it back, but I just didn’t consider the consequences.  After all, he dared me!   It was a nice shiny object that surely would add to the fun of making things “Plink”.

I remember a vague scolding from my mom, but I think she was more upset with herself for allowing me to wear that little pinky ring outside to play.  The fun for the boys was ruined too.  I didn’t cry and they didn’t get to see me get in trouble. 

That was my first lesson in non-attachment that I can recall.  I don’t remember spending much time grieving over that first piece of jewelry. However, forty plus years later, I could still walk you straight over to the exact storm drain where we played “Plink”.   The girl that accepted the dare is still with me, and I am slightly curious to see if a sparkling gem might be resting under the street. 


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Peace, Healing, Humor

Cora.

♬ the fish are performing a rock opera.

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