As an adoptee that spent two decades searching for my origins, I have always had a reverence for the past. Maybe that is why I also have a passion for classic cars, historic buildings, and antique and estate jewelry at my jewelry store in Newport Beach, California.
Every morning I wake to see this beautiful hand-blown glass cup that my adoptive mother was given from a friend at a 1943 fair. My mom’s name was Martha, but the name Micky stuck with close friends. From the date imprinted on the cup, it is striking to know I can hold the past in my hands – a whole era before my biological beginnings. I carefully removed the vessel from it’s safe shelf haven for this glamor shot. By coincidence, I found a quarter my dad gave me years ago bearing the same date.
The name was spelled slightly wrong, probably because of all the distractions of the fair. By coincidence, my daughter, Michaela, is also called Micky by her friends.