Sunday. Say the word. It just SOUNDS wonderful, doesn’t it? — a day for only good things— sun, fun, peace, rest, devouring a Tin Roof. {OK! Lame pun, but let’s face it, the day wouldn’t sound nearly as heavenly named Banana Split…and, in general, the next favorite day of the week is ‘Fry’day.} ‘Sunday’ just sounds inviting, and in recalling childhood, it seems that, for the most part, it was. On Sunday, a kid could sleep in a little, get to see a bunch of friends at church, some from different districts and some seen every day of the week at school—with one IMPRESSIVE difference: !!!No Homework!!! Then home with a friend in tow depending upon wheedling capabilities, to a great meal, minimal duties(i.e. doing dinner dishes), often no duties if you had a friend visiting,{Ya’ see why wheedling is NOT a spectator sport?!}and an entire, glorious afternoon to cavort and be carefree! It doesn’t get any better than this, right? How does the song go?…”It ain’t necessarily so…”
Remember the anticipation of seeing buddies at church? That was, for me a mixed blessing because my parents attended that same church. The trouble was, while we were pulling the wings off any flies that dared to come near the rear pew, our parents were listening to the sermon. In case you haven’t already guessed that SEVERELY limited the list of acceptable Sunday afternoon activities. With ALL there is to do in NW Pa{biking, horseback riding, snow mobiling, swimming, fishing, concerts, and ball games to name a few}, apparently the only sinless forms of Sunday entertainment were reading{nothing racey like the Bobbsey Twins books, only a Sunday School lesson or Bible stories}, napping, or taking a walk. In my best NW Pa Redneckese: ‘Don’t THAT jist frost yer garters?’ Now, you have read this far and you still have the question, “What does all this ‘Sunday’ business have to do with stone jewelry, or anything else for that matter?” Just this: Sunday is definately the day our initial interest in glacial till was sparked. After all, taking a nap was OUT of the question, and given the resulting dichotomy, which one would YOU choose? Yep! NOW we’re on the same page! Reading can be done after sundown! Actually, I think Mother was from a different denomination because as soon as Dad fell asleep, she was more than willing to go for a walk with us(unless, of course, the weather was way too nasty for little souls to be outside, in which case, we opted for the prohibited card game). We would stroll and stomp along rural roads or in pastures and woods pocketing ‘neat’ specimens as she explained all the beautiful things God put on this earth for us to see, use, and enjoy. Since I was too short to see above the cornstalks, thus began the fascination with things underfoot: seashells, rocks, plants, cats, my kid brother…{Hey! It’s OK! We are NOT biased…TToo LIKES cats. NOBODY likes my kid brother. NO! we do NOT tolerate discrimination…We insult everybody! Besides, we’re related to most of them… but that’s ANOTHER story.} Mother always patiently answered the never-ending “What’s this?” with “That’s granite.” or “a sandstone.” or, maybe “flint,” or “That’s a hardhead,”{That response seemed to be reserved for times when it was difficult to determine if she was pointing at Dad or a rock.} or even “That’s a lucky stone,” but most often “That is a very pretty rock.” Being like a lot of kids, collectors, we had ‘world class exhibits’ scattered in every building on the farm of approximately 8% lucky stones, 5% flint, 3% granite 1% sandstone and 83% ‘real purty rocks.’
So, with this interest in stones, you probably think we became geologists, travelled the world over in search of the Perfect Rock and ended the quest back in “NW Pennsyltucky” the place of our births. Well, almost. I went to college to major in math(Can’t you tell by the tangents I take?) and physics(I’d heard selling laxatives could be lucrative). TToo majored in fast wheels and big engines. He found the perfect stone once, but hit it with his motorcycle. That little stunt put him ‘out of commission’ for about six months. The fact remains, after graduation, we went our separate ways. Rather recently, we re-acquainted with long conversations time and again, discovered a common appreciation for our native Pa stones, and here we are: putting pretty rocks to good use.
The process is somewhat lenghthy, beginning with hand-selecting rocks from the glacial till of NW Pa, mostly in Mercer County, and yes, there really is a place called Stoneboro. These semi-precious stones are found anywhere from above ground to as deep as 120 feet below the surface. If you are interested in more about the glacial ridge refer to the Pa Glacial map link. The selected specimens are cut with a diamond saw, then shaped and polished with some or all of four various grits of diamond laps. A number of spins of the buffing wheel finishes the stones. Diamond drills are used to groove specific stones for pendants to be wrapped w/ 14k gold fill wire or Sterling silver wire. Others are drilled for pendants or beads. Yet others are formed into irregular shapes aproximately 1.5 to 2.5 inches long by about half as wide, much akin to the ‘Pet Rocks’ and ‘Worry Stones’ popular in past years. These sculpted “Thumb Stone”/”Pocket Rock”/”Palm Stone” creations are my personal favorites. (Could be they invoke memories of the ’skipping’ stones of my youth) But “Thumb-Pocket-Palm Stone” does NOT roll glibly off the tongue, so we call them Sculpted Thom Stones. TToo likes the dressier, wire-wrapped pendants and earrings.(TToo has some feminine characteristics, but it’s OK. That offsets some of my Celtic Warrior traits.}
In future editions of our Rambling Roads News, we’ll share more of our stoned(maybe that should be ‘rocking’) thoughts and encourage you to share yours with us.
Next let’s talk specifically about TToo: He’s a recluse……maybe from too many rock scars
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