I have a really ugly, gimmicky, souvenir "eyeball" ring that hasn't seen sunshine since the early 1990's. It came from a gift shop in Knott's Berry Farm (theme park in Southern California, think Disneyland but smaller, more old western, and Peanuts mascots instead of Mickey). I was very young, maybe 5, and visiting Knott's was a big event for our younger family. My Dad probably got free tickets for being in the military or some such nonsense. In between the kiddie rollercoasters and train rides we visited an overpriced gift shop. Our social/economic class made us mostly a "magnet family". Postcards and magnets were always the cheapest souvenirs and there were no plans to buy anything but. Gift shops are built to lure families and their kids though. And sure enough away we kids went looking at the overpriced junk we'd never get or need. I can't remember the place in great detail but there were all the mainstays from colorful polished rocks to personalized mini-license plates. Then there was one little clear plastic tub of items on a wall I couldn't take me eyes off of. They were eyes. Little fake plastic eyeballs set in some cheap alloy band to make a jewelry ring. I don't know why but I was hypnotized by them.

 

Now it isn't unheard of for a child to beg on occasion. In fact there is a strong tradition among them to do so. I was just doing my due diligence when I begged for one of the overpriced pieces of junk. I couldn't tell you the monetary price of the thing but I know it couldn't have been much. But lets be realistic, any money was too much money for it. I do know it was out of my allowance pay grade, hence the begging. The actual price isn't important in the end though, its the idea of it's worth that I had as a kid that taught me a life long lesson. My parents probably tried to shrug it off and discourage me from wanting it for the same reason any parent would; as a kid I probably would like it for a week and then forget it. Especially since it wasn't an actual toy. But in my head it registered as they didn't want to buy it because it cost too much. The value of the rings exploded in my head even more. The spell they had over me was strong though. It seemed worth the price somehow. And as my family wandered the shop further I continued to stare at the rings. Wrestling the pros and cons of further begging in my guilt ridden head I decided to take one more stab at it. My persistence paid off. I broke down the parental units and a ring made its way to the register. I'm sure there were cries of outrage and/or compensation of some form for my siblings, but I got my ring. I remember one last fleeting feeling of guilt before it entered the palm of my hand as "mine". Should I have made my parents spend the big money for a stupid ring? The thought was gone as quick as it had arrived, it was all pure excitement after it was in my hand and on my finger. This thing was awesome not stupid!

 

I adored that little piece of metal and plastic nearly nonstop for the rest of summer. I would stare at it at night and wear it any time we left the house. It was too big for my skinny skeletal fingers so I was constantly playing with it to keep it on. There isn't any vivid memories of showing it off to others since I was a shy little feller, but I know I wore it proudly and would flaunt it's existence. It was cool gosh darn it! And so I was cool for having it. My vanity knew no bounds!

 

Then one day the inevitable happened. The thing was missing. I had misplaced the ring! I checked EVERYWHERE. It was even worse than my little heart could've imagined! I hadn't misplaced it, I had lost it! My mind raced trying to retrace steps. Somehow I landed on a vivid memory on leaning over the railing of the second story of the local mall. I had been playing with the loose ring spinning it on my finger and taking it on and off as usual. And I remembered having a thought of how much of a horror it would be if I dropped it off the ledge to the floor below. Somehow the memory of that thought turned into a certainty that it had happened. I clearly had dropped the ring off the balcony at the mall! Or at the very least left in sitting on the railing. Either way, it was gone.

 

The overwhelming dramatic guilt I felt cannot be described. If I saw this happen to a kid nowadays I'd be tempted to call it adorable or cute if I hadn't actually lived it. It was neither! It was dreadful! Especially considering the monetary value my big empty child brain had put on the ring. I had clearly lost my family a small fortune! I felt so very bad. There was nothing I could do but come clean. The fear was crippling though. What would my parents do with me?!? My childish imagination was making this into one heck of a situation to say the least. The fear gripped me strong and I hid the dirty rotten truth for days on end. Maybe I had some fleeting hopes of the ring re-emerging somehow or maybe I could scour the mall planters for it if we were to go to the mall again. Nobody would be any the wiser if I somehow found it. I kept justifying buying time to myself.

 

Finally after a week or so the guilt beat out fear. Now the fear was still there though, and I couldn't face the music head on. So, I penned a letter profusely apologizing to my parents for begging for the ring in the first place. And then further apologizing for losing it. There were probably offers of child labor via chores to make up the cost of the ring, but I cannot vividly remember all the details. I do know it was in blue colored pencil though, don't really know why I remember that. I ended it begging forgiveness for my mistakes even though I knew I didn't deserve it. I folded the letter up and then chickened out again! I kept it in my pocket for days, reading it over multiple times when I had time to myself. Eventually I began fearing the letter itself would be found and the truth would be out there before I was ready. And then that became a whole thing... I decided to put it in a small wooden box where I kept all my important kid knickknacks like my knife and my eyeball ring.

 

Wait what?!? My eyeball ring! It was in my little wooden box the whole time! Lost no longer! There was relief, plenty of relief, but not complete relief. The experience had changed me. I still felt guilty for begging for the it. I was no longer enamored with the thing. The spell was broken. My guilt made me flaunt the thing and wear it for another month to “prove” I liked it. But I honestly hated it by that point. As time passed I realized nobody cared, so I stashed back away. Oddly enough, as I got older, I started remembering the thought of me losing it, and again, thought that I had. It wasn't until in my early 20's when I found it in the same small box again that I finally remembered the whole story.

 

I spent the rest of my childhood loving things and toys like any other kid, but I like to hope I kept my begging to a minimum after that. Delusions, I'm sure. As an adult, the memories of the whole event taught me some valuable lessons about material possessions. While my current opinions on things and stuffs and junk was formed through lots of experiences and environments, I think that eyeball ring kind of epitomizes it all and gives it a focal point. I have never let myself get enamored or attached like that to an object since. All my worldly possessions could fit in a closet, all my important worldly possessions could fit in a shoe box, and I don't own a single thing I couldn't live without. Anything I hold dear isn't tangible. Its a memory or an experience or a feeling. I'm not trying to be preachy or insult accumulation of material objects, but I'd like to suggest things aren't as important as they can feel. I still have old Atari/NES/SEGA video game cartridges, LEGOs, old pictures and papers, etc. And I have new stuff too; clothes, electronics, books, etc. Many of these things I've attached meaning to as well. But in my "go bag" I have an absolute piece of junk souvenir eyeball ring that reminds me how little material things I truly need. And every time I repack the backpack it stares at me and seems to say something like "Bro, life is an experience not a priced product". I know right? The thing thinks its deeper and more profound than it is. Stupid worthless ring! It would be the first thing I leave behind.