This Diamond Ring.
By the 3rd grade...
I had already begun to envision myself as quite the “playah”.
In fact...
I was set on using my burgeoning romantic skills
to woo not just one, but two...
of the most popular girls in the class!
Even at my young age,
I soon realized that I could not rely merely on my good looks (?),
(notably super-skinny, with big ears) ,
and my questionable charm...
to win over the ladies.
So tapping into my intuitive understanding of the opposite sex,
one day I boldly declared to the entire Third Grade class at P.S. 91...
that, in fact…
I had a diamond ring in my possession!
And that I was now ready to bestow it upon my lady of choice!
I further announced...
that I had narrowed my choice down to the final two:
The ever-so-beautiful, porcelain skinned, Allison Koyner… and her best friend, the dark and sensuous, (braces aside), Fran Orenstien.
It worked!
Not only did it serve to excite these two fair maidens…
but it captured the “buzz” of the entire 3rd grade class!!
Suddenly, each girl,
for some mysterious reason,
began acting nicer to me…
and at the same time...
a bit meaner towards each other.
I kinda liked this.
A lot.
I milked my moment in the romantic spotlight for as long as I possibly could.
But soon...
the pressure to make a decision was beginning to mount.
So one day after school, as the class gathered in the schoolyard…
the jumping of rope, the punching of Spauldeens ceased for a brief interlude..
and all focused their attention...
on me and my two paramours.
Trying to be as “nice” as the situation allowed,
with the eyes of the entire third grade fixed on me, I dramatically revealed my decision:
“Sorry Allison, but I’m giving the ring to Fran. Please still be my friend”.
NOTE:
To tell the absolute truth, I don’t remember if I actually chose Fran or Allison…
but that’s not the point.
In any case...
the “rejected” lady did not exactly still want to “be my friend”.
In fact, as she broke into tears…
in a split second she went from “really liking me”..
to pretty much “hating me”.
The sobbing continued so dramatically...
that it attracted the attention of Miss Coyne, our teacher.
When the beautiful Miss Patricia Coyne,
(who was really my one true love)..
began questioning…
everyone in the 3rd grade class was more than happy to fill her in on the details.
(By now, it was widespread news).
Allison was comforted…
and I was challenged by Miss Coyne, in front of all…
“Robert, if you really have this diamond ring…
why don’t you bring it in tomorrow?
Slightly concerned, but not deterred….
I knew just what to do.
As in all my moments of crises…
I would turn to my big sister Ellen.
She was always able to fix things.
When I arrived home that day,
I meandered into Ellen’s room and rather casually asked her...
if I could have “one of the diamond rings”,
I confidently assumed she had stored in her jewelry music box.
When she,
(somehow without mocking),
informed me that, in fact, there was no diamond ring in her treasures…
for the first time…
I began to panic.
My “hot shot Romeo” reputation was on the line!
Now desperate, I explained my dilemma to Ellen.
And sure enough…
she was going to fix it!
She opened her jewelry music box.
And as the soothing melody of Beautiful Dreamer
gently calmed my momentary angst…
she took out a shiny gold (-colored) hair barrette.
It was designed in the shape of a lady’s exquisite…
Roller Skate.
Would that suffice?
Would Fran Orenstien be satisfied and love me forever??
To increase my odds…
Ellen laid the roller skate barrette on a small bed of fluffy, white cotton,
then placed it inside a perfectly-sized velvet jewelry box.
Finally, she tied a fancy golden bow around the whole elegant package.
I was impressed.
And Allison.
And Miss Coyne.
And the entire 3rd Grade.
The next day arrived a bit too soon,
as did the moment.
The “crowd”, wild with anticipation,
formed a circle around me and the blushing Fran Orenstein.
Miss Coyne looked on.
With my heart pounding… I presented my offering to Fran.
As all craned their necks to get a good look,
wide-eyed and grinning expectantly…
Fran Orenstein undid the ribbon…
and opened the box…
“What’s this???”
Then holding up for all to see
she answered her own question…
“It’s a roller skate!?”
Some groans and chuckles and nudging…
began making its way through the 3rd Grade audience.
And then…..
SHE THREW THE BOX AT ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Now the “chuckles” turned to “guffaws”…
(or whatever is the best word for “the most humiliating laughter ever heard").
There was pointing.
And name-calling.
And some sadistic form of “celebration”.
In my all too oft-recalled memory of that crowd…
I see it as one of those wide-angled, slow-motion movie shots,
where faces are horrifically contorted…
and ugly laughter echos with a chilling reverberation.
I was ruined.
Probably, I thought, forever.
But...with some “lesson-learning comfort” from my beloved Miss Coyne
and the passing of (some difficult) time…
somehow…I survived to tell my tale today.
For years this story has been retold in my household.
Playing to my kids' penchant for schadenfreude…
it has become their very favorite story, relishing every gory detail.
“Dad, tell the Diamond Ring story again!”
EPILOGUE
Just a few years ago I attended a PS 91 Reunion…
and there was both Fran and Allison!
I reminded them of this life-long, traumatic humiliation…and…
THEY HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT!
But I remember.
Would love to hear stories about YOUR early romances!
