Prior to departing to fight in Vietnam as a grunt (American slang for foot soldier), Jeb Black purchased a diamond ring at an old, dusty pawnshop on Main Street in Santa Ana, California. After spraying it with Windex and buffing it three or four times, he then added the coup de grace by waxing the ring with car polish and shining it all over again. He then presented it to his longtime girlfriend, Denise, as he asked her if she would marry him.

 

Excitedly, while lunging into his arms, she responded, “Yes! Yes, of course. I love you so much, forever and ever.”

 

As a grunt in Nam, he faced steaming hot days in claustrophobic jungles, wide open rice paddies, steep mountains, and countless days of pouring rain fighting a war against two sets of enemies, the communist soldiers of North Vietnam and the guerrillas known as the Vietcong, all the while constantly on the lookout for treacherous and deadly booby traps and surprise attacks, the latter of which often resulted in raging fire fights lasting for hours, Black, like most grunts, hoped against hope once back at base camp there were letters waiting for him from home. And, for Black, those from Denise had been particularly prized.

 

Letters from loved ones were a critical lodestone, as they, in their inimitable way, allowed the grunts to be assured that they’d not been forgotten. That those in “The World” were thinking about him. They were also a means of forgetting about, even if for a short while, the horrors of war.

 

Every time Black wrote Denise, he asked her if she still loved him as much as he loved her, still loved her ring, and wore it day and night to announce to all the wolves after her that she was already spoken for. In every one of her replies over the first six months, Denise replied, “Of course, silly! Why wouldn’t I?”

 

The first time Denise failed to respond to his ceaseless questions about her love for him and whether she continued to wear the ring day and night, he automatically knew something was up --  and that her failure to respond to the questions was not simply an oversight on her part.

 

What was up, exactly, he was not sure. But what he knew in his gut was that “it” was over.

 

Denise, however, would not admit that something, indeed, was up. Instead, she continued to write to him, while purposely avoiding sending him a typical “Dear John letter,” as she feared he might do something stupid or not be as careful as he could or should be, and end up badly injured, if not dead. But Black knew what was going on. No two ways about it.

 

Like any grunt would be, Black was beyond anxious to get out of the service and back to civilian life. Back to round eyes (American girls). Back to dating or marrying their girlfriends or new girls. But he was also anxious to get to the bottom of the matter with Denise. When he could think beyond his suspicions of what Denise was up to, Black day-dreamed about becoming a police officer back home.

 

Upon returning to the States, Black discovered he was right – Denise had started going out with another guy. And not only another guy, but with one of his friends. A fellow named Peter Bǫlverkr. As soon as Black made the discovery, he, both furious and disconsolate, demanded the return of his ring. She was more than happy to do so.

 

Little did Black or Denise have any idea at the time what an odyssey that ring would undertake – one almost as turbulent as anything Odysseus and his men experienced. The main difference being, of course, is that Black did not have a Penelope waiting for him at home.

 

Within a month and a half of regaining possession of the ring, Black began dating a different girl in Laguna. Three months into the relationship Black buffed the ring, placed it on her finger, and instantly became engaged, again. As luck would have it, their relationship went south some ten months later. Again, he demanded his ring back and was successful in doing so.

 

While devastated yet again, Black chose to look at it from a positive angle. The ring, which he now, facetiously, using police jargon, referred to as his “habitual offender ring” celebrated that it had worked miracles twice, and he was sure it would do so again. To Black’s delight, the ring and engagement remarkably expedited and facilitated getting the girls into, as Black put it, the “sack.” That is, “the habitual offender” remarkably sped up the time between the first date and the point of what Black referred to as “the consumption” by which he actually meant “the consummation” of their relationship.

 

From that point forward, Black went on a wild spree. Over the next several years he gave “the habitual offender” to five different women, each of whom he “bedded” instead of “wedded,” as he indelicately put it, resulting in his having a marvelous time in the process.  Over time, the moniker of “the habitual offender” was replaced by what Black thought was even funnier: “the ring that kept on giving.”

 

When he finally landed a gal who was both serious about and willing to marry him, Black, at her insistence, replaced “the habitual offender” and bought her a ring at Tiffany’s.

 

In the end, he loved relating the story of “the habitual offender” and “the ring that kept on giving” to his buddies on the police force and anyone else who didn’t already know about his errant ways. No matter what he referred to his ring as, the tale of its odyssey always induced a roar of laughter among the listeners, those to whom he was relating his tale.