My Turquoise Ring

I spent most of the summer of 1980 in Albuquerque with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. My uncle was an English prof at an Indiana college who was taking part in a seminar. I went along because, well, it seemed interesting and my mother had arranged it.

I spent the mornings at summer sports camps at the University of New Mexico. I did swimming, gymnastics (and got to be pretty flexible, but it didn't last long), and played some tennis, but my favorite sport was, oddly enough, team handball. It turned out that I was a pretty good goalie.

When I wasn't doing the sports camp stuff, we were exploring New Mexico and the American Southwest. We made the National Park Circuit: Painted Desert, Grand Canyon, Mesa Verde, Chaco Canyon, and Carlsbad Caverns as we left Albuquerque.

We also went to D.H. Lawrence's ranch in Taos. And of course, we went to Santa Fe, Glorieta, & Sandia Peak.

Of all the traveling in New Mexico and the Southwest, one thing that fascinated me was turquoise. For some reason, I think it looks nice. Being thirteen at that time (and still growing), I didn't buy any rings or anything. But I always liked the look of it.

Some 20 Years Later...

I grow up. I fail Calculus. I change majors six times and earn degrees in three different fields. I get a job here in the Jackson area. Going out more and more, I see people wear turquoise jewelry and I remember when I was younger and in New Mexico that summer in 1980.

I do some looking around here in Mississippi. None of the rings at the shops and kiosks impress me.

My father dies in mid-May 2003. My sister and her husband attend the funeral. They mention that they're going to be at their house in Truckee that Independence Day Weekend. I'm intrigued and ask if I can go, and they say sure.

The next couple weeks following the funeral were still rather depressing for me. I decide to buy a roundtrip ticket to Reno (the nearest airport to Truckee). I begin to feel a bit better after attending a couple concerts the weekend after my birthday. I saw BB King and the North Mississippi Allstars perform at separate venues. BB King at Pickens on Sunday. The Allstars at Hal & Mal's the Friday before.

At the Allstars concert, I see a brochure for the High Sierra Music Festival which is held in Quincy, California, some 75 miles north of Truckee. I decide this is a good sign.

A Long, Strange Trip

I fly on American Eagle to DFW and then take the American flight to Reno. Sitting next to me & across the aisle are a couple of people. The guy's reading Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel. I've read the book a couple of times. So we talk a little. Turns out he's the bassist for Soulive. The woman with him worked for Velour.

So I figure. Yeah, it's definitely a sign-- a good sign. I need to go to High Sierra.

I have fun in Truckee. I love the area. I'm beginning to think that I'm more of a mountains guy I think.

I visit with my sister, my brother-in-law, my aunt and uncle (the same aunt and uncle with whom I spent the summer of 1980 in Albuquerque), and my three nephews.

High Sierra

That Saturday, I drive to Quincy. A nice drive, a scenic drive.

I buy a one-day pass and a late night ticket to see the North Mississippi Allstars and Soulive after hours.

There's lots of vendors there. Lots of them. Selling food. Selling coffee (I must have drunk 6 cups of coffee over there and I had bought some water at a Safeway in Quincy.)

There's also vendors selling jewelry. I look around to one kiosk and then another and then yet another. The ring sizes are too small or too large or the styles are not me.

I go to another kiosk. One of the vendors is a nice-looking woman-- and she's topless. Okay, she has glittery golden pasties pasted on, but she's topless nevertheless. And she has a nice selection at the right size. I try them out (the rings, you preverts) & find one I consider good enough for me and purchase it. I put the ring on my right ring finger. I like it even more.

I spend the remainder of my day at High Sierra listening to various musical acts: Maktub. Yonder Mountain String Band. Les Claypool's Frog Brigade. Karl Denson. Steve Winwood. Hot Buttered Rum.

Late that night, I go see and listen to the Allstars. I stand at the front in front of Chris Chew. I move to the music. After their show is over, I get a drumstick. I talk to Chris Chew for a little while. Nice guy. It's a little after 1 a.m., 3 a.m., my time & I'm tired.

I hate to miss Soulive, but I do. I walk back to the car and drive the 75 miles back to Truckee. I arrive at my sister's house a little after three in the morning wearing my turquoise ring.