New column: Every kiss begins with a stone

In grade school, one of my sons had a crush on a girl–the sort of crush bigger than the two extra-large cards in Valentine’s Day packages reserved for teachers. With a mouth full of baby teeth still left to lose, my son proclaimed we must go shopping for this special girl.

Since this was my first foray in parenting a child in love, I suggested we go to the drug store candy counter for an extra-large chocolate bar, or a small stuffed animal.

“Oh no, Mama. We have to go to Kay.”

“Kay?”

“Yeah. You know. Kay Jeweler.”

As gently as I could, I tried to explain that diamonds do not inspire every kiss, particularly not kisses amongst grade school children. Nor do diamonds equate to true love. Eventually and after much convincing, he acquiesced to addressing the biggest card in the Valentine’s box to his sweetie, and affixing a piece of chocolate on top.

On the other hand, maybe love is like a diamond . . . not the kind you buy at a store, but the kind which begins under a foot of mud in an African river, or in the deep blackness of a mine in Russia.

Just ask a gem cutter.

My 95-year-old Grandpa cut stones, back when his eyes worked better and his fingers worked, steady and nimble.

“What’s your favorite color?” Grandpa asked me during one visit years ago.

“Pink.”

The next time I saw him, he plunked a perfect, pink, heart-shaped, faceted stone pendant in my hand.

“It’s just quartz,” he smiled.

I still think it’s the most beautiful stone in my jewelry box.

Recently, I’ve been researching the art of lapidary for a writing project. I learned how original stones are rough, blemished and dirty. Called “the rough,” the lapidarist cuts this into pieces, trimming off flaws, imperfections and cracks. The work is slow and precise, down to fractions of millimeters.

Next, the gem cutter whittles the stone into basic shapes, paying great attention to the direction of the grains through processes called marking and cleaving. Softer stones such as amber and opal can’t handle harshly angled facets, so most of them are sanded and buffed into round, spherical shapes called cabochons.

More traditional stones, such as sapphires, aquamarine, emeralds, quartzes and diamonds are angled off into brilliant, geometric cuts. The machines that help do the cutting are tweaked ever-so-slightly to achieve every unique angle, in order to capture and reflect light which would be otherwise and forever hidden within their depths.

When finished, a gem is small and insignificant when compared to the vast expanses of the world around it. Unless the owner holds it out or wears it on a bare, open wrist or neckline, no one else ever knows its winking sparkle exists.

In an age of short-lived, over-romanticized, tabloid marriages, no wonder our children don’t understand where true love comes from.

No wonder over 50% of us don’t have a clue about how to make love last.

Kay has it partially right.

Every kiss begins with a cold, hard stone.

But only the ones that make it through marking and cleaving, sawing and rounding, faceting and brillianteering–only those achieve brilliance that lasts.