It began with the ancient Egyptians, who wove reeds into a circle that was worn on the left-hand ring finger, which they believed carried a vein that ran straight to the heart. In Rome, a man would slide an iron ring on a bride's hand to symbolize ownership. Medieval Europeans added gemstones to gold bands, choosing red for the color of the heart, sapphires for the color of the sky, or diamonds. The English inscribed sweet words onto "poesy rings" in the 17th century. Today, we choose them as an expression of individuality, leading to rings of every shape, size, color and design.
As much at the ring has changed, one thing remains the same: Almost every wedding ring has a story -- some sad, some funny, some poignant, and some tragic. So now, in the month our thoughts turn to marriage, we celebrate the many-faceted tales of wedding rings submitted by Tribune readers.
Lost and found: Almost everyone has a story of the lost and/or found ring. Two civil servants, a firefighter and a policeman, told eerily similar tales of finding lost rings stashed in their undergarments. Two husbands relayed accounts of dropping rings in the shimmering waters of Hawaii, where the seabed surely must glitter with the newly exchanged -- but not yet sized -- bling of honeymooners. One woman watched as her fiancé lost her engagement ring in a poker game.
One of the most touching stories came from Helena Crane, who was only 17 years old when she sent her new husband, Phillip Biando, to fight in World War II. He left behind a few belongings -- his dress blues, some papers, a growing baby -- but no gold band. "Rings were hard to come by in those days because of rationing," said Crane, 84. Soon after, his ship was sunk in the South Pacific and Helena was left alone to raise a baby.
Flash forward 67 years when a fire ravaged a cousin's home in Illinois. While cleaning out the attic, the cousin found an wayward trunk containing Biando's uniform. Inside the pocket was a love letter and a simple ring adorned with diamond chips that Phillip had intended give Helena as a Christmas surprise.
Today a widow once again, Crane now wears the ring whenever her arthritis will allow it. He was the true love of her life, she said.
Another miraculous story came from Mack Sanders, grandson of John and Fannie Sanders, who raised apples, peaches and apricots in Hurricane around the turn of the 20th century. After the crops ripened, they would pick the fruit, lay it out to dry, then pack it into burlap bags. John would fill the wagon and head out for two or three months of door-to-door sales. One day he knocked on a door and a woman answered. "Are you the fellow who sold me fruit a few years ago?" she asked him. Yes, he said. "I kept hoping someday you would come back," she told him, because she had found something in the last bag he sold her: Fannie's wedding ring, lost years earlier while packing fruit.
Although their rings were never lost, Jim Struve and Jeff xxx have a story of how their rings were found. The Salt Lake City men say they "aspire to the spirit of compassion and nonviolence that are core values in Hopi culture," so they set out for the Southwest to find bands made by a Hopi jeweler. They found gold rings bearing the tribal symbol of emergence: the figure of a man at the entrance to a maze, which illustrates the spiritual birth from one world into the next. The rings were matching in design, "reflecting the unity of our partnership," wrote Struve. But they were different in shape, "reflecting our desire that our relationship support each of us as unique individuals."
Last month, the men celebrated the 10th anniversary of their commitment to one another.
Tarnished: Where there is joy, there can also be great sorrow. Several readers told tales of what happened to rings once the love had faded.
The most candid story came from an anonymous caller who described receiving a Dear John letter in 1945 right after surviving WWII's infamous Battle of the Bulge. On a pass to Paris, he decided he would try to find "a good-looking lady who would take me to her apartment and keep me for the night. Well, it did work out, and it was a very pleasant evening. The wedding band was left in payment for services rendered," he said, adding that he needed to speak quickly while his current wife was away.
After her divorce, Lori O'Connor wasn't sure what to do with the ring she had worn for 20 years. She wanted a "closing chapter" for her marriage, so she decided to return to the beach where she was married, with a small, blue bottle. Inside were small treasures: iridescent confetti stars, a beautiful butterfly, the ring, and a note that read: "'Magic' is created when two souls collide . . . producing a sparkling shower of respect, laughter, joy and most of all love. May this ring be a reminder to whoever finds it that 'magic' between two people does exist. When you have "magic" in your life, it is the most powerful force you will ever experience. "Then she chucked it into the sea.
This way she could imagine all kinds of happy scenarios for her ring, rather than see it in a drawer and feel sad. Would a small boy find it and give it to his mother? Was a beautiful orange starfish now wearing her diamond? Would a broken-hearted woman find it and discover new hope? she wrote in an email.
Transformed: Sometimes a couple or a ring must go through a difficult transformation before it can become a powerful symbol.
Jeanne Cady Snarr and her five sisters took turns selecting pieces of jewelry from their Scottish grandmother's collection after the woman's death. They drew numbers and sister No. 5 was the first to choose, taking the only thing any of the women really wanted: Gran's gold wedding band.
"That gold band never really stays on my sister's finger," Snarr wrote in an email. Instead, it is given to any sister who needs support - the sister who had brain surgery, another who was far from home, and another who was going through a rough time.
Recently, "sister No. 5 five found herself taking off her own gold wedding band, which she wore for 14 years, and has set out as a single mother of two. She is the one who now wears Gran's gold ring for comfort. She is the one who needs our grandmother's legacy and symbol of strength ... one that is stronger and more pure than gold."
Brian Benington said rings have been an interesting theme in his life -- from the "family ring" that men in his family were given upon reaching adulthood; to his mother's ring, which was sold to pay medical bills after she died of lupus at age 29; to heirloom diamonds passed down from generation to generation in his South African family.
Most meaningful, perhaps, is the wedding ring he never really wore.
Twenty-five years to the day after his wedding, Benington's wife presented him with a silver ring, "crafted from what may have once been someone else's cutlery -- a fork, a spoon, or a knife. Not quite a wedding band."
The two were trying to hold together a marriage that had been strained for years because of Benington's attraction to other men. "None of my best efforts at prayer or 'righteous' living, romance, nor the kind counsel of others . . . could remove something so much at the core of my being," wrote Benington, a convert to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Then one day he suddenly realized "that heterosexuals do not have a corner on morality and integrity, nor how to love others." So the couple gathered their three grown children and announced they would divorce.
Today, his ex-wife wears new rings given to her by her new husband. His married daughter wears the sapphire ring he once gave to his ex-wife. Two years ago, he surprised his partner, Duane, with a simple stainless-steel band that was later lost.
Benington no longer wears any particular ring. "Now and then, I take the ring crafted from silver cutlery out of its heart-shaped, fleur-de-lis box and wear that. There is less pain now," he said. He thinks there may be a wedding band in his future, maybe in his home country of South Africa, where everyone is allowed to marry, regardless of sexual-orientation. Maybe someday even in America, he said.
