Thumb Rings and White Gloves

The sun outlined her long, blond hair and body in gold as she entered the room. Bracelets jangled and earrings danced down her neck. She confidently wore her unique style from her headband down to her tanned legs. Expressive eyes sought me out and she quickly finished her text conversation and hurried over to meet for lunch. We really didn’t know each other. I met her during a time when I was confined to live from dusk to dawn before barely making it home to rest. While I couldn’t make up for lost time, I could now spend my time with people I imagined would connect in heart and laughter and spirit. Some two hours later, I left the restaurant with a new friend and a commitment to buy a thumb ring.

A few days later, I attended a regional meeting for an organization I recently joined. Some 300 women gathered to honor the noble cause and seek ways to further unite together in time-honored traditions. I was the only one wearing blue jeans –- black to be exact. I was dressed from head to toe in black -- black cotton shirt above black jeans and my favorite black platform sandals. Big silver hoop earrings jangled above a beaded necklace my sister made and my long wavy hair was barely contained by a lace black headband. For lunch, I seated myself at a table with two elderly women. With disdainful tones, they described the relaxed dress code and spoke with animation about the upcoming state conference during which white gloves and dresses would be worn. I broke into hives.

On the way home, I thought about my two different lunches with these separate women. Stopping at a jewelry store to purchase the much anticipated thumb ring, I pondered the white gloves. I had no doubt that my new friend, sporting her own thumb ring, would have white gloves. Maybe I would have the guts to wear my large silver thumb ring on top of the crisp gloves I could borrow. Maybe I would wear it under the gloves. Maybe I would not wear it at all in deference to the honor and respect the white gloves portrayed.

What I do know is that it feels good to have discovered someone who owns both white gloves and jangly bracelets and earrings. A friend, who lived on a farm, loves her own thumb ring and suns at the pool. She is a Mercedes driving, free-spirited woman who lives life on her own terms and wears her hair as she pleases and would be perfectly comfortable lunching at my organization’s meeting.

The key is not to look for a perfectly labeled and categorized box, filled with groups of people who are just alike, and have the same personality and interests, to fit within. The secret is to learn that the box isn’t for people. It’s for the assortment of clothes and jewelry and shoes that we can pull out and put on as we float through the universe embracing all that life has to offer. The secret is to look for one person at a time and see if their box contains and assortment of life’s sparkles and glitter, boots and hair clips. That’s when we start finding ourselves. The self capable of wearing both the white gloves and the thumb ring; conforming as needed; rebelling as desired. And then, what fun we’ll have together along the way.