#preciousobject

This is a blanket crocheted by my Bachi (grandma in Polish), my dad’s mother.  She loved crocheting and was always working on a project or 10 when I would bike ride with my family over to visit.  She would always crochet a blanket and give it as a gift for each grandchild when he/she graduated from high school. She passed away the day after Christmas when I was in 8th grade, when my dad and his brother and sisters were going through her stuff in the attic they found crocheted blankets with the names of all the younger grandchildren - she had made sure to crochet a blanket for each grandchild who had not yet graduated before she died. This one had my name on it.  <3 

When I was a little boy, I stole a ring belonging to my grandfather. It was gold with a purple stone, and I was of an age when, I dunno, I guess Scrooge McDuck and the Goonies were awesome and it seemed important that I have that gold ring. I buried the ring in the backyard, because that’s what you do with treasure. 

Eventually, Grandpa discovered that the ring was missing, and I overheard a conversation between my grandparents that clued me in to the incredible sentimental value of the ring; I think it belonged to his brother, I don’t honestly recall the specifics. Anyway, I went out into the backyard and ripped it apart. I was in tears by the time the sun went down, so miserable that I couldn’t find the ring. 

My grandmother found me, covered in mud and shame. I told her what I had done, and she told me that I next had to tell my grandfather. 

I remember sitting in the kitchen, crying, so embarrassed to have not only stolen but now lost the gold ring. I expected my grandfather to be furious, to whip off his belt and give me a good thwack. Instead, he was quiet. When he spoke, in kind tones, he said, “I can tell you’ve had this on your chest for a long time. And it takes a big man to admit his mistakes." 

And then Grandpa went to his jewelry box and he gave me a ring, a ring of my own. It was silver, with a black stone and a couple of diamonds. I’m sure now that it was one of his pinky rings, because that thing swam on my childish finger.

I kept looking for the gold ring. Eventually I found it – having murdered a good chunk of the grass below our orange tree – and when I gave the ring back to Grandpa I finally knew the weight of that tiny gold loop. 

This is a picture of my father, Marvin John Schulenburg. It was taken at his confirmation when he is 13 years old (born in 1912). The soft look in his eyes could only have been generated by some words spoken to him by his mom, my “Granny.”

He grew up during the great depression but did well in school, both as a student and athlete. As an athlete, he was selected to All State (Illinois) teams in both basketball and football. As a senior in high school, he was offered a full scholarship to Harvard University, but was unable to accept it because there was no money for transportation and his family needed his income.

My first submission is a “Final Certificate of Naturalization” dated March 31, 1890. It was awarded to John Meyne who emigrated from Germany. He was my Great Grandfather on my father’s side (his Mom’s father).  

The certificate describes that John be admitted as a naturalized citizen due to: having appeared to the satisfaction of the Court that said applicant has resided within the limits and under the jurisdiction of the United States for the full term of five years past last, and one year and upward immediately preceding the date hereof, in the State of Illinois, and that during said term of five years, he has sustained a good moral character and appeared to be attached to the principles contained in the constitution of the United States, and well disposed to the good order, well being and happiness of the same; and two years and upwards having elapsed since the  said applicant filed the declaration of his intention to become a citizen of the United States, according to the provisions of the several Acts of Congress heretofore passed on the subject; and he having now here in open Court taken and subscribed the oath required by those laws, to support the Constitution of the United States, and to renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to every foreign Prince, Potentate, State or Sovereignty whatever, and more particularly all allegiance which he may in anywise owe to Emperor of Germany of whom he was heretofore a subject. It was Therefore Ordered and Adjudged by the Court, That the said John Meyne was  admitted to all and singular the rights, privileges and immunities of a Naturalized Citizen of the United States.

Though the certificate did not scan well, you can still see the bloodstain on the certificate which family lore explains as follows:

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

This is a fairly new object that has entered my life and added some magic to it. Last Fall I was invited to audition for the role of Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and was very nervous to get my feet wet with Shakespeare. I’ve been a fan of the Bard’s work all my life but read all his plays in Spanish back in the Dominican Republic. Since English is not my native tongue I’ve always been extremely scared of auditioning let alone performing Shakespeare, but it was time I took the opportunity and went with it - What could happen? It’s only an audition… 

Days get closer to the audition and even though I’ve worked tirelessly on my sides I begin to doubt myself again and think maybe I shouldn’t attend, why waste a producer’s time? I’m going to suck?! That awful negative voice took over. It was a Sunday afternoon on the Upper West Side the day the little ego monster was bringing me down until I stumbled upon a street fair. I tend to go the other direction as they are crowded and not as fantastical as your downtown street fair, yet something told me to go in, the other little inner voice that’s not a monster. As I walk by the smell of the street meats mixed with candy apples and leather bags (I know right? yikes!) I see a stand with different buckets full of trinkets and stones and medallions of all shapes and sizes, and on the top was this flower… trapped in a moment forever… the first thing that crosses my mind is part of Oberon’s monologue in A Midsummer Night’s Dream:

"Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love’s wound. And maidens call it love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower. The herb I showed thee once.” The monologue that was one of my sides for the audition the next day. Not only did I know at that precise moment that I had to audition, I was cast! I popped my Shakespeare cherry,  played Oberon, and will work with the same director in Macbeth. I also recently auditioned for Hamlet and had to turn a callback down because it conflicts with a vacation I had already booked. In conclusion this little amulet has unlocked a complete new world for me and I’ve carried it into every Shakespeare audition  since. I wonder how many eyes discarded its beauty, how many people made sure to dismiss it, as it waited for me to find it.