Skip to main content

ODE to Gemology

G. Robert Crowningshield
For over 60 years students of Gemology have struggled with spectrums; bewildered by birefringence, and simply plagued by pleochrosim. The following sonnet is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face, a glow to your heart, and a simple reminder that students of life and gemology re-discover natures gifts all over again, every day.

The following is reprinted with very minor edits from The Loupe, vol. V, No.2, Mar-Apr, 1953 p. 3.


Dedicated to G. Robert Crowningshield, Bert Krashes, & Bill Jean

ODE to Gemology
By a GIA On-Campus Student 

Dispersion, fire, aventurescence,
Orient, sheen, or iridescence—
Refractive index—high or low—
The luster should indicate that, you know.
Polarization—double or single—
What to do now! They intermingle!
Pleochroic colors you really should see;
Was that only two, or actually three?
Birefringence should help you a lot—
Use your polarizer, and watch the spot.
Now did it jump most, on low or on high?
Sure you can get it; if you really try.
Your liquids should be an aid, I think.
Does it float, suspend, or slowly sink?
Just use your imagination now—
(He doesn’t see me wiping my brow!)
Solid inclusions, or only bubbles?
Huh! They brush right off! I still got troubles—
Look for crystals and fingerprints—
Are the striae straight or are they bent?
You finally make your indentifications—
“You only missed one! Congratulations!
You’re doing fine! It’s just speed you lack!”
(I feel like using a well-placed tack.)
This scientific approach is tough
And you feel like shouting, “I’ve had enough!”
But, sooner or later, you see the light
And you know that this approach is right.
So to all who have helped us may we humbly say,
“Thank God, we had you to show us the way
To a life that is full of the things that are real—
And the appreciation you’ve taught us to feel
For the things which Nature so graciously gives—
You’ve given us something by which to live.”

“Anomalous”

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Feeling Human Again

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...

The Compass of Cuba: Mom

🎄  Preview of this week's  On the Fly  blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

Patience: the Only First-Class Ticket

In this episode, Patience: the Only First-Class Ticket They say travel broadens the mind. After eight days sailing the Rhône with 140 fellow luxury vacationers, I can confirm it also tests patience , calf strength, buffet strategy, and one's tolerance for people furious that France insists on being French. Don't get me wrong—I adored this trip. The river shimmered like liquid optimism. The villages looked hand-painted. The pastries could negotiate world peace. But somewhere between Ship Horn Hello and Bon Voyage, we'd inadvertently boarded a floating behavioral research study disguised as a holiday. Our ship was less a cruise and more a ferry for the Sailors of Status. Some passengers approached relaxation like yogis. Others treated leisure like a final exam with extra credit. I came to believe certain luxury watches emit ultrasonic signals that only their owners can detect. A frequency calibrated to trigger rapid movement toward any line forming for any reason. I saw more ...

Up the Rhône

Up the Rhône by Patrick Ball We booked a fine cruise up the Rhône — what a treat! With iPhones, lanyards, and schedules so neat. They promised us peace and a mind that would mend, But each calm beginning had chores at the end! "Now breakfast at seven! At eight, take the view!" At nine, there's a lecture on ' What Tourists Do!' At noon, there's a tasting (you must love the cheese), Then hurry to nap time — as corporate decrees! I followed that plan till my patience ran dry. The Rhône softly chuckled, "Oh my, oh my, my! You've missed half my sparkles, my ripples, my tone— You're busy pretending you've peacefully grown!" So I fired my planner and banished my clock. I tossed my agenda right off the dock! I let the wind tickle my schedule away, and drifted through hours that danced where they may. I chatted with swans, had no notion of when, I'd nibble, or nap, or go roaming again. No Wi-Fi! No meetings! No planning! No fuss! Just me and ...