Barbara Douglass’ grandmother gave her a string of pearls (above) she still treasures. At right, her grandmother, Harriet Swift Conklin, wears the pearls.

A column I wrote about a string of 1920s crystal beads for our July 27-28 editions sparked a memory for Naples reader Barbara Douglass. You may remember her sharing a story in July 2021 of her grandmother’s thimble.

Here, Ms. Douglass shares the story of her Nana’s pearls.

My Nana was a lady. You could tell she had good upbringing even though I knew nothing about her parents, childhood, and schooling. I don’t know how my Granddaddy met her. My only speculation is that since Nana was from New Haven, Connecticut, and my grandfather went to Yale, perhaps it was in a bar one night that she caught his eye; then again, perhaps friends set them up. I suppose it could have been at some fancier social event, more glamorous. Regardless, they must have been blindsided with love at first sight since Granddaddy quit school after two years and married Nana shortly thereafter.

My Nana always dressed nicely. In their grand Saddle River house, she had a housekeeper, cook, groundskeeper, gardener and chauffeur named Woody, who drove us to New York when we went shopping and took me to and picked me up from Newark airport when I went back and forth to and from college.

At times, I felt distant from my Nana, but there were times when it seemed that she let down her guard and shared a softer side.

One such time was when I was at her house. I cannot remember on what occasion, but she took me in her massive bedroom, the one they used in the warmer months, with soft wall-to-wall pastel carpeting, flowered covered chairs and light-colored floral print wallpaper. It was on the west side of the house with windows looking on the backyard of acres of manicured green lawn, and dogwood trees. You were higher up and also saw the treetops in the valley beyond.

It was a room we did not go into unless invited. It was in this room that she led me over to her jewelry box on her dresser. There, she found a soft felt case and in it a strand of cultured pearls. The clasp held a small diamond. Holding them delicately, she told me that they were indeed very special. Her mother had given them to her. They had been in their family for years. Pearls definitely were a staple added to my Nana’s outfit of choice. I did know how special they were. With that, she put them in my hand and told me she wanted me to have them.

My Nana was a lady who wore pearls, fancy dresses and a wonderful smile at all the grand parties and special events that she and Granddaddy attended. And now I am the Nana with pearls. I can only hope that my smile is as wonderful as hers was when I proudly wear them.

When I wear the pearls I remember a tender, loving moment with my Nana, a moment when she put all else aside and all her attention was on me. With all of her many grandchildren, she chose me to be the keeper of the pearls.

Perhaps she knew that I would hold them dear and would pass them on as she did, telling the story about those that wore them before me, keeping the memory alive. ¦

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