The fairy stone is a unique and all but lost family tradition here. It started and ended with my great grandmother, Marge Sturgis. I only partook in the tradition for one week as a child, but to me, the value of this story is not so much in the tradition of it, as what it tells of her personality and sense of imagination. It was a superstitious story of grandma's fabrication—I sometimes got the sense she had a whole delightful world of mythology, all her own, living in her head, that only she understood, but into which she would give us little awe-filled glimpses.
