- This February marked my 17th visit to Tucson, Arizona for the annual gem and jewelry shows. As I've written many times before, this event is like no other and one I never miss. Dozens of rock, mineral, fossil, gem and jewelry fairs blanket this desert town for a two-week period, summoning an array of interesting characters from all over the planet. But this year's Tucson was bittersweet for me.

Upon my return, I received a call from the daughter of an old friend with news that her mom had passed away. She died on Feb. 10, the day I was flying home from Tucson, a place that she had introduced me to all those many years ago.

Her name was Ginger Dick. Although the pseudonym might lead you to believe she wrote for another industry, one that glorifies a different set of rocks, it was really her name, with the last part gained through marriage. But as she always said, "Honey, as a writer, you want readers to remember your name!"

More than that, people who met Ginger remembered the person. The Ginger I knew was gangly, with a mane of undulating fiery red hair to match her passionate personality. She wore large-framed glasses that magnified her wide eyes. A longtime smoker, her voice was deep and raspy. Her style was far from conservative, perhaps best described as New Age Bohemian with an Asian twist. She had an eclectic way of accessorizing that almost always showed off an unusual gem carving she would practically sacrifice eating to purchase.

Because of her exuberant nature, the very timid may have been unnerved by Ginger at first meeting. However, I was immediately taken in. A newbie who was more than wet behind the ears, I came to Tucson and its grandeur wanting to hide out in my hotel room. At the time, I had just taken on the job as editor-in-chief of Colored Stone (CS), quite shell-shocked after putting my first issue to bed - the mammoth 500-page Tucson Show Guide. Not only did I not know much about gems and jewelry, I did not know where to go or who to speak with to find out more.

But along came Ginger!

I met her through my predecessor at CS, Tom Stacy, who also is my longtime friend. After steering me in Ginger's direction, I was swept up in her tornado as she scoured the show floors for the new and exciting in gems and jewels. She introduced me to everyone she knew, literally, with the preface: "This is one of the industry's brightest new stars, definitely someone you want to know." As we walked away from certain booths, she'd whisper to me: "That's one of the good guys, keep him on your radar." Everyone knew Ginger. Some of my best contacts and oldest friends were discovered under her wing.

Without hesitation, she openly shared everything she knew about gems and jewelry. She enlightened me, not only from an aesthetic point of view, but a crystal healing one as well. Her excitement for the industry and the characters in it was contagious, and I was so blessed to be infected.

A former go-go dancer, white vinyl boots and all, Ginger was always the life of the party. The Original Jewelry Lady, my mentor, and I became fast friends. For many years, we shared our annual pilgrimage to Tucson together, as well as many adventures at home and around the world.

A rare gem in her own right, Ginger not only influenced me as a writer and a businesswoman, she taught me to spread the love. Her philosophy of stepping with instead of stepping on someone to make it up the corporate ladder has also served me well, inspiring me to pass the torch of good will whenever I can.

Forever fossilized in the gem and jewelry trade, Ginger will not be forgotten. Truly one of the good guys, I know I will see her again someday in that great gem show in the sky. So, I'll sign off in true Ginger fashion by saying, "Bye for now!"