Skip to main content

Gem Geeks

Admittedly, it's a little geeky (A person who is single-minded or accomplished in scientific or technical pursuits but feels socially inept), wandering around Tucson, Arizona, pawing gingerly through boxes of terminated quartz crystals, looking for that remarkable specimen . . . or was it Tiger Iron?

Indeed, when Gemologists converge on Tucson, the socially inept are unreservedly transformed!

Lori Tucson 2013
In February 2013, gemstone and mineral aficionados converged once again in Tucson, Arizona, to play in the desert. Cold mornings, warm afternoons, the glow of sunrise on the mountains, magnificent golden, green, and orange hues, the fresh smell of the dry desert air, and, of course, the majestic
Carnegiea gigantea (Saguaro) Cactus.

In years past, during economic prosperity, finding a room in Tucson during this show would not have been possible. Fortunately, we found a comfortable room. Granted, it was seven miles from downtown. Yes, we waited until the very last minute to reserve our room.

“It's been a long time since we’ve had to scrape ice from our car windows,” said Lori. Since 1987, Tucson has had an annual trip for work. My renewed joy was an opportunity to spend quality time with good friends after a three-year sabbatical.

We made a three-day weekend out of it. The relaxing drive from Southern California took about seven hours. For the gem dealers, it's all about business; for the gem geeks, it's about socializing. In the world of gems, there is no single show on earth where so many people from around the world converge to share stories, show samples, lick agates, dance the night away, and simply throw caution to the wind.

It is amazing what gem connoisseurs will spend money on, present company included. This year's big purchase was a slab of Tiger Iron (geeky stuff) from the Pilbara region in Western Australia. After seeing many beautiful species of gems, including my favorite, a stunning 23-carat Cats-Eye Chrysoberyl ($83,000.00), for some strange reason, this material would not let me pass it by. That piece now inhabits the fireplace mantel in our home.

Maybe that’s what the Tucson Gem Show is really about. Gemologists who secretly love to pull baubles from their pockets and engage in conversation about the clandestine world of gems and minerals . . . just ask anyone,

“What special piece did you find?”

Comments

Anonymous said…
Ha! I finally had to have some Ethiopian opal. :)

Blaire, aka Gemgeek!
Patrick B. Ball said…
Good for you Blaire, it's all about the unusual gems anyway!

Most Popular of All Time

Sunflowers, French Steel, and the Yellow Jersey

Watching Le Tour de France this year, I found myself transported back to August 1983 as the Peloton in Stage 10, Bastille Day, flowed through the French countryside like a brightly colored ribbon. I was in my twenties, visiting family in the Charente-Maritime region of France, completely obsessed with bicycle racing—and convinced I was much stronger than I was. My connection to cycling—and to France—runs deep. I was born in France, and my very first real road bike, at age fifteen, was a Mercier . To me, it wasn’t just a bicycle; it was a work of art made from beautiful French steel. I rode that bike for miles, through high school, into college, and until the day someone decided they needed it more than I did. I hope they at least appreciated the craftsmanship. Its untimely disappearance led me to a Schwinn Voyageur, and later, when I started racing around Illinois, to a Raleigh Competition . But during that summer of ’83, while staying with my Uncle Jean Paul in Lagord, just north of L...

Rediscovering the Magic of Summer . . .

Summer mornings, especially on a holiday weekend, have a special magic. The air is cool, the world quiet, and the day full of possibilities. This July 4th weekend, Lori and I decided to capture a bit of that magic by beating the holiday traffic with an early morning bicycle ride. We went through our usual pre-flight checklist: Stretched out the morning stiffness. Filled the water bottles. Strapped on the helmets. Checked the tires. Three tires passed inspection. The fourth had apparently declared independence. The rear tire on my e-bike was flatter than a Kansas highway. “Well, it looks like we’re not riding today,” Lori said, with the calm acceptance of someone who had already mentally promoted coffee to the day’s main event. “Why not?” I replied. “I’ll ride my old bike.” She gave me that look —the one that safely translates as, "Are you sure about this? " “Absolutely,” I said. “Why not?” I dragged the bike stand out and surveyed my options. One glance at the aggressive gear...

Morning Coffee

In this episode, Morning Coffee . . . Now, I’m not saying everyone needs coffee. Some folks get by just fine on, I don’t know, sunlight and positive thinking. Me? I’m pretty sure I started drinking the stuff sometime around the Reagan administration. Reading John Gierach’s "Ode to Campfire Coffee" in Trout Bum (a book that should be required reading for anyone who sees sleeping on the ground as recreation) got me thinking about how we’ve managed to complicate something as fundamentally simple as boiling water and adding grounds. Taste, you say? Look, black coffee is an acquired taste, like tequila or cilantro. I just don’t get it. Gierach, bless his heart, mostly drinks his java streamside, probably while wearing wool socks and waders and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. As for me? My outdoor coffee experience is a bit different. Picture this: the High Sierra, where campfires are banned (to avoid agitating Smoky Bear), and I’m huddled over a Whisperlite , coax...

The Endless Work of Wisdom

It always makes me smile. The moment people learn I've officially entered what I like to call the Great Un-Working (retirement), they almost immediately ask the same question: “So . . . What do you do now?" I think they're expecting me to say I'm restoring a vintage sports car, hiking the John Muir Trail, or finally becoming fluent in French.   Instead, I tell them: "I live life deliberately." That's usually the point when I get a polite nod, followed by the unmistakable look of someone wondering whether I've simply found a more sophisticated way to say, “I’m becoming a bum.” Apparently, "living deliberately" sounds suspiciously like unemployment, just better branding. The truth is, what living deliberately looks like for me right now is taking time to synthesize a lifetime of experiences into these weekly reflections. It's slowing down long enough to ask what those experiences have taught me, while keeping the door wide open to the poss...