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  Gems and marriage

A wife's testimony on living with a gem dealer
September 19, 2012


After all these months of reading the Gemewizard Gem Color Report, I thought it was about time that you learned the truth. I suppose that after 30-something years of living with the infamous Wizard himself, I am qualified to let you in on a few of the secrets of the trade.

Snoring and amethyst

Having read quite a lot about the quality and powers of gems, I became a true believer in their abilities. On one of my visits to a small mineral and crystal shop, I was very excited to learn that amethyst, if put under the pillow of a snoring partner, will have a soothing effect on the offending party, by reducing the volume of the noise to a bearable minimum.

"What more appropriate way is there to get a good night's sleep alongside the Wizard," I said to myself, "than to take the few kilos of the amethyst rough that we had on the roof of our, and place them under the Wizard's side of the bed. After all, he wouldn't notice it. He would never think of looking under the bed for amethyst.

The deed was done and the weeks passed by, and they turned into months. But, alas, to no avail. The Wizard continued to snore. In fact, if anything, the noise increased. Dreadfully disappointed, I returned to the shop and described the situation to the gem expert standing behind the counter.

After a moment of thought, he said, "But of course, you've given him an overdose! One or two stones are okay, but a few kilos are irresponsible. No wonder he has been snoring even stronger. Try these citrines now. Maybe it will have a better effect on him."

Turkish tanzanite kitchen

I consider myself a good cook, and the Wizard's Turkish-born mother taught me to do wonders, transforming my previously all Anglo kitchen. The highlight of my culinary week is Thursday, when I prepare for the traditional Jewish Sabbath family dinner on Friday evening.

I will never forget one particular Thursday, after a long and hard day as a school teacher, I entered my kitchen with renewed energy to prepare the Friday evening dishes. There stood the Wizard, wearing my apron and staring at the oven as if gauging the exact moment to remove a just-risen soufflé.

Suddenly, he shouted, "It's blue, it's blue."

"What's blue?" I asked, confused. "A blue soufflé?"

To my amazement, and must add to my disappointment, the Wizard carefully removed my favorite baking dish, containing a few blue stones, from the oven.

The stones, I later discovered, were heat-treated tanzanite. But what really bothered me years later was that in none of his presentations about tanzanite did he ever mention using MY oven. He always bragged about those marvelous digital ovens he possessed at the lab.

The lost baby oil and talcum powder

Like most young mothers, when our children were very small, I kept a ready supply of baby oil and talcum powder at home. But often, just when I needed them, they would have a habit of "disappearing."

For months I wondered what could possibly be the reason behind this strange disappearance. Eventually I it dawned on me that this phenomenon would reoccur after the Wizard returned from buying trips to Africa. I decided to follow his movements closely.

To my surprise, I saw him taking a whole bottle of baby oil and putting it into his jacket pocket. I shadowed him to the office and discovered him pouring our precious children's baby oil onto a pile of rough gems that he examined under a lamp.

And where did I find the missing talcum powder? Lining tin boxes that he used for "cooking" the gems!

The bedroom lapidary

There's nothing wrong with reading before sleeping. Early on in our married life, I got used to the Wizard reading piles of books on mineralogy and gemology deep into the night.

And then one day he added a small table with a lamp to our bedroom. There he would sit for hours, sorting his gems and studying them. At first he blinded me with the light, but I got used to it.

And then, about 10 years or so into our marriage, the Wizard brought home a new piece of furniture. Smiling from ear to ear, he proudly opened the doors of the cupboard to reveal a machine similar to the one he had in the lapidary. He was nonplussed by my reaction, clearly believing that I would allow him to cut stones in my bedroom while I tried to fall asleep.

In response to my protests, he told me that he was in the process of developing a new style of gem cut that he would name after me. But he required total secrecy, and what location could be more secure than our bedroom?

So, what could I do? For the next three years he cut stones in our bedroom until the wee hours of the morning, sometimes shouting in exultation when he was happy with a facet.

This, the truth be told, was the birth of the Carmel cut, which is now widely used by the industry. Until now, nobody but the two of us knew where it was conceived!

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