A few weeks ago, I realized that my younger daughter Halley’s graduate school commencement follows Thanksgiving by only two weeks. A few years ago my mother gave me the wedding ring sets from both grandmothers, her intention that they would eventually be gifted to the only great granddaughters in the family. Two years ago, Merideth earned her J.D. and to acknowledge her accomplishment, my maternal grandmother Elsie’s diamond was put into a pendant.   It was time for me to prepare a similar gift for Halley’s M.B.A. which will be conferred on December 11^th. I had to face my personal demons and legacy that Grandma Anna’s rings hold. I like the symmetry of the gifts to my girls, passing on the stones from their great-grandmothers. However, it was a fear of passing on ‘bad karma’ from Anna that gave me pause.

The history of my conflict with Grandma Anna goes back to before I was born, when my parents first announced their engagement. To the love-struck couple, their wedding promised the formation of a family which as only children, they never knew. They both tell of falling in love at first sight…the lightning bolt, their immediate recognition of one’s soul mate. It didn’t matter that my mother was “pinned” to someone else and that my father’s navy flight squadron was in final training for a tour of duty in Korea. Their three weeks of whirlwind dating led to their announcement of their engagement at a dinner at the bride-to-be parents’ home. Furious, Anna stood up slammed her fist on the table, pointed to my mother. “I FORBID THIS MARRIAGE! YOU ARE UNSUITABLE FOR MY SON! If you choose to marry, I place a curse on you that you may never bear children!!!” She stormed out of the house, with my grandfather in tow. And then, the psychological warfare began.

My mother, a senior at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia, was helping her parents to plan a fairytale June wedding. My father, a Navy fighter jet pilot, made arrangements for his fellow flight officers to participate in the ceremony. Imagine, Navy officers in dress whites, ceremonial swords drawn overhead as the couple descends my mother’s childhood church steps.

A few days after the announcement of their engagement, my father’s parents stuffed all of his boyhood possessions into their 1951 Buick sedan and drove across Pennsylvania to Quonset Point, R.I. After an 8 hour drive, they dumped everything in a heap in the middle of my father’s room in the Bachelor Officer’s Quarters. Anna made frequent, crank phone calls to his commanding officer, the base chaplain, my mother’s sorority house, and my mother’s parents’ business (a hardware store). What made these calls even worse is that Anna was almost totally deaf, so that it was impossible to dialog with her. These were long, one sided rants at exorbitantly expensive long distant rates. In addition, she wrote long, angry letters, too, accusing my mother of being a “gold digger” with the intention of marrying my father and hoping that he was killed in Korea so that she could keep his insurance money. The incessant ugliness prompted the base commander to call my father into base headquarters. “Do something about this. It is causing uproar on the entire base. This is only the first week of February; we cannot tolerate this until June.”

On Friday, my mother was planning to ride up on the train from Philadelphia to visit my father. Instead of a casual weekend with my father’s best friend and his wife, the love sick couple devised a plan. The base chaplain would marry them in the chapel, followed by a Champaign toast by the squadron. The base commander signed orders allowing my father to leave base for a weekend honeymoon. That Sunday night, my mother returned on the train to her Philadelphia sorority house as a married woman. She resumed her studies to complete her last semester of college. In July, my father left with his squadron for a carrier off the Korean coast and an 18-month war tour of duty. Anna continued her hate campaign of phone calls, letters and unannounced visits to my mother who was living with her parents while my dad was at war.

Not long after he returned from Korea, my dad was transferred to Pensacola, FL and I was born 10 months later. The engagement announcement day curse was foiled. My mother named me “Nike” for the Winged Victory of Samothrace, the celebrated Hellenistic Greek sculpture, created to not only celebrate the Goddess of Victory (Nike) but also to commemorate an ancient sea battle. Anna never acknowledged the significance of the meaning of my name, but I live with its legacy every time I introduce myself or sign my name.

After my dad left the Navy and my parents had two more children, the grandparents from both sides agreed to a truce of sorts. Family holidays were spent in our home with both sets of grandparents attending. Every summer Sunday all four grandparents ate with their children and grandkids between them at the long picnic table. Until her passing at age 99, Grandma Anna’s difficult personality challenged my parents’ commitment to each other, but my father has never wavered in his devotion to his wife and family first.

Several days later I stopped for Anna’s rings in the bank safe deposit box. I had an appointment with the jeweler after school. While teaching, Anna’s rings felt heavy and awkward on my hand. She was a statuesque woman with big hands. Her rings barely stayed on the middle finger of my right hand. Anna’s rings slopped around on my hand. Her “upgrade” bridal set that she bought for her 35^th wedding anniversary, the flashy rings Anna wore on family holidays, to church on Sunday, or for bridge club.

Memories of my wickedly intelligent grandmother trapped in her prison of deafness swirled around me. I don’t want to pass on ugliness to Halley. Breaking the rings, creating new gifts from old broke the hold these rings held. Grandma Anna was a complex individual with many talents. Maybe some of her frugality and determination would serve Halley well, I considered. I looked at the rings and realized the potential of the gift. The dismemberment of the ring, my act to divide and conquer seemed appropriate, to embrace the good and neutralize the bad. The place I need to start is with forgiveness for my dead grandmother.