“Come on, Grandma! Let’s play dress-up!” So I used to say to my grandma as I breezed
past her after lunch, galloping up the stairs as fast as my little legs would
go. Then I would burst into my mom’s old
room and make a beeline to the wooden cabinet where my grandma kept a lot of
her costume and fine jewelry. I would
sit next to her on the floor and together we would go through each drawer. Soon we were both bedecked in amethyst rings,
turquoise necklaces, and silver and gold bracelets. I remember on one of these dress-up days
Grandma pulled out a white box I had never seen before and I peered down eagerly,
wondering what sparkling treasure would be nestled inside.
It was a huge lion’s claw. The top of it was set in heavy gold and it
hung from a long, thick golden chain.
I remember my jaw dropping and
Grandma tells me that my eyes got so big as I stared in wonder at it. “Is it real, Grandma?” At her affirmative, I asked if I could hold
it. She let me, and I ran my fingers
carefully over the smooth surface, carefully touching the sharp tip. “It’s your grandpa’s,” she told me. I loved it.
I have always loved furs, naturalistic jewelry, precious stones and
rocks, fossils, and claws and teeth of all different kinds of animals—even at
that young of an age my imagination was captivated.
Later that afternoon I asked
Grandpa if he would tell me the story of how he got the lion’s claw necklace,
and here it is: When Grandpa was a young man he and a few other men went to Africa to hunt the dangerous animals that were
overpopulating the areas where people lived.
“These animals, Dana,” he told me, “are not like they portray on
television. It’s like they are
completely different species from what you’ve seen on TV or at the zoo. When you encounter them in the jungle, like I
have, and you look in their eyes you can feel
their wildness. They are primitive, feral.” The claw came from the paw of the male lion that
my grandpa killed. When he came back to America
After that day, every time I
played dress-up with my grandma, I would look for the lion’s claw and hold it
for a while before putting it lovingly back in its box. And even though it has been years since I
have played dress-up, I have never forgotten the lion’s claw necklace. A couple days ago during the family’s
Christmas dinner party, Grandpa, Grandma and I were sitting together in the
living room, chatting and laughing about all kinds of things. Then my cousin Max came in to show us what
Santa brought him for Christmas: a rifle.
It was so cool, and as I watched Grandpa hold it, I asked him to tell us
again about his hunting trip in Africa (it had
been many, many years since I had last heard the story). “I remember the lion’s claw necklace,
Grandpa,” I told him once he was finished.
“I remember how I used to hold it and look at it all the time when I was
little. It captured my imagination. Maybe it’s the barbarian in me,” I laughed,
“but I love that lion’s claw necklace.
It’s really awesome.”
I have a very special relationship
with my grandparents. We deeply
understand each other and saying that we are best friends and kindred spirits
doesn’t quite fully explain the profound and loving relationship we have. Being the beautiful, generous souls that they
are, my grandparents wanted to take me out to my favorite restaurant, PF
Chang’s, for a celebratory lunch in honor of my completed MA degree and student
teaching (my mom came too, which was really nice!). When we were all seated, Grandma pulled a
small box wrapped in golden paper with a shiny gold bow out of her purse and
gave it to Grandpa. Then he reached
across the table to place it in my hands, saying, “Here’s an old Moroccan
Proverb that suits you now that you’ve accomplished so much and will continue to
do so: ‘The lions in their dens tremble at h[er] approach.’” I grinned and in my mind, I thought, No way.
Not quite daring to believe, I carefully unwrapped the box, opened it,
and there nestled inside was the lion’s claw necklace I’d loved for so many
years. I remember exclaiming and looking
up at them, fingers tracing the familiar smoothness and sharp tip. “We wanted you to have this, Dana,” Grandma
said. Gratitude welled up in my heart because
the necklace represents so much to me and I thanked them both. Grandpa smiled and asked, “Do you want to
wear that now?” “Of course!” I replied,
clasping it securely around my neck.
Then Grandpa said, “Maybe this is more fitting for you: ‘The jackals in
their dens tremble at her (the lioness’s) approach’—the lioness is you!” “I like that, Grandpa,” I laughed, pressing
the claw against my heart. “I am a Leo,
after all!”
I couldn’t stop fingering the
lion’s claw necklace—now my lion’s
claw necklace—as my mom and I drove home.
I was so happy and so appreciative and so aware of their pride in me and
their love for me that I began to cry.
The lion’s claw necklace is so much more than just a necklace: it
symbolizes my grandparents’ strength, their courage, their generosity, and
their love. I haven’t taken the necklace
off all day. And whenever I wear it in
the future I will always think of them.
 |
| Me and my lion's claw necklace. Maybe I should think of a name for it! |
<3
