Gonzo Girl

As I pulled the beautiful blue glass bead from my back pack, I knew I had a perfect place to put it.  We were in Porto, Portugal on the main boardwalk along the river. A blue dingy was on the dock, waiting. The bead needed to be on this boat. It was so apropo because the creator of the hand blown bead loves water and her husband is a guy who builds boats. 

After not quite hiding the bead in a crevice on the stern, I snapped a picture and walked away. 

For me, the tradition of hiding beads began in 2021. We had recently moved to the Olympic Peninsula and I had just retired. We were heading out on a trip to the Northeast which included an Inn to Inn cycling tour through the Green Mountains of Vermont and beyond.

Right before  leaving, my neighbor Maggie, called me. “Hey!  I was just thinking. Sometimes when I travel, I take some of my beads with me and leave them in unexpected places. Do you want to take some of my beads and do this?”  

“OMG! Yes!”

And a new travel tradition was born. 

Before going on, it’s important to understand a little bit about these beads. 

Maggie is an artist. She creates incredibly beautiful glass beads. 

This may sound simple, but it is not. I mean, working with molten glass should never be underestimated.

She explained to me that her interest in beads, and ultimately making them, started in the early 1990’s when her daughter became interested in designing beaded jewelry.  By chance, Maggie saw a shop in town that made and sold one of a kind glass beads. Owner and artist, Andrea Guarino-Slemmons offered bead-making classes and on a whim, Maggie enrolled in a weekend workshop. She was hooked.

She started “buying” studio time at the shop, and then started looking into creating her own studio. But it seemed daunting, if not expensive. 

Her husband, a shop teacher at the time, said, “You just need the tools. We just need to buy the tools.” Which they did and he built her a studio with proper venting,  fiery torches, pliers and other implements of creation for melting and shaping glass.

Over the last thirty years, Maggie and her daughter have created and sold incredible jewelry using her gorgeous beads.  

But then the “extras” started piling up. The ones that didn’t fit the design idea, or didn’t make the cut for a perfect pair for earrings. Or, were simply never used. 

The idea of sending her beads to unexpected locations began on a whim. A dear friend and co-worker had passed on and she liked the thought of some beads accompanying his cremains into the next realm. So they did. 

Distribution of “Maggie’s Beads” only grew from there. Hawaii, for a friend’s wedding.  Vietnam and Cambodia. Europe, Canada, and all parts of the US.  She told me she can’t remember all the places they have landed. Sometimes, they are scattered.  Other times, they are specially placed to possibly be discovered and thereby, offering a bit of mystery to the finder.  

On that trip to the east coast, Rick and I left one on top of Mt. Washington, at the lighthouse in Portland, Maine and of course, Vermont. The next year, we left them along our cycling route from Lisbon to Amsterdam, and then again on our Amtrac tour of the South in San Antonio, Austin, New Orleans and Charleston.  

We leave tomorrow for a cycling adventure down the Danube River. So today, right on schedule, Maggie delivered a small package.  A pouch shaped like a fish. 

Full of beads. 

I cannot wait to start looking for the perfect spots to place these special beads. I feel a little like Boo Radley, in To Kill A Mockingbird.  The mysterious recluse would hide small “treasures’ in a knot hole of an old tree so the neighbor children would find them. Hidden just enough that you wonder if they were meant to be found. And by whom?  And, most importantly, why?

I like to daydream that children, or adults with a child-like sensibility, will find these small treasures. I imagine they spot one, pick it up and make one of two decisions.  Leave it be or better, find another great hiding place for someone else to experience the joy and mystery of discovering one small bead.