I was dancing a Lindy with my beautiful wife, Lorraine, at a catered wedding in my wife's hometown, Washington D.C. As she twirled gracefully around, I did my favorite step. As she passed under my arms, I felt a sharp pain in my hand. It felt as if it was something like a barbed wire and it nearly broke the skin. Ouch!
Initially, I peered at my hand and then I checked Lorraine's hand. I looked at her engagement ring and all I saw was four sharp prongs staring back at me. The diamond was gone.
My Uncle Murray, the jeweler, made that expensive ring. Did he forget to tighten those prongs many years ago?
Was it somewhere on the dance floor?
Where could it be?
How do we go about looking for it?
I remember in dental school, if someone dropped an inlay on the floor, we would get a wide push-broom and sweep the floor. Actually, eventually we usually would find it.
We notified the Master of Ceremonies and he made an announcement.
I found the custodian and I commandeered a mop. All the dancers retired from the dance floor. I started methodically from one corner sweeping and looking across the floor. Naturally, the floor was covered with dance-wax, which complicated the search.
Back and forth - forth and back, I swept with my broom. Nothing, each trip was fruitless. It started to look very bad. Shucks, it was a beautiful marquise stone and now it's lost.
Suddenly, near the bandstand there was a tumult. The drummer was holding something in his fingers. Could it be? Was it possible?
The drummer approached and showed us a small piece of coagulated wax. In the center was a glimmer. It was the diamond. We were crazy with joy! How did he ever see it?
I immediately offered him a reward. He immediately refused the offer. I insisted, but so did he. I thanked him profusely and placed the diamond in a safe place.
When I returned to New York, I made sure my Uncle Murray replaced the stone and tightened the prongs.
A serious tragedy averted. The ring is still beautiful!
P.S. Go Giants! We love you, Eli!