The spark isn’t the diamond. It’s the moment it holds. As we step toward a century in 2026, Doug shares how a family of bench jewelers became retailers, why a trade shop built the backbone of trust, and what “cold metal and hard rocks” can mean when they mark the biggest days of our lives. This is a candid preface to a year of stories—less fanfare, more heart—focused on the people, the craft, and the memories carried in every ring, chain, and setting.

We start with gratitude and a challenge from John Adams: we rarely know the cost paid by those before us. Doug reflects on his grandfather, father, and uncles, who ran a wholesale repair shop that served retailers without in-house jewelers. That behind-the-scenes work—stone setting, sizing, soldering—taught precision, patience, and responsibility. Those habits still shape how we guide customers today, whether restoring a lost prong or designing a custom piece for an engagement or memorial.

We also face the honest question: who cares about a hundred-year legacy? Doug answers by skipping the hype and promising a steady cadence of human stories. Expect practical insights on the bench skills that keep heirlooms alive, reflections on how the industry has changed, and conversations with fourth-generation Joseph as we bridge past and future. The throughline is simple and strong: jewelry matters because people matter, and the work only counts when it protects their moments.

Join us as we open the door on process, provenance, and purpose. Subscribe, share with someone who loves craft, and tell us about the piece that holds your story. Your moments shape our work—what should we talk about first?

A single decision can echo for a century. We open the vault on our origin story, tracing how a 22-year-old named Art Meadows borrowed from his bride, climbed to the ninth floor of Detroit’s Metropolitan Building, and lit the spark that became our family’s jewelry legacy. The world of 1926 hums in the background—television’s first moving pictures, the birth of Route 66, NBC’s launch, and Henry Ford’s 40-hour workweek—shaping the pace of life and the taste for beauty that still influences how people buy and wear fine jewelry.

Walk the marble lobby and gothic elevators of the Metropolitan, a purpose-built jewelers hub where diamond cutters, goldsmiths, and silver workers shared compressed air & gas lines and craft secrets. That vertical ecosystem sharpened skills and set a standard of quality that we still chase today. Doug threads in personal moments—a convertible run on Route 66, childhood swims at a grandfather’s house, and a hard admission about ignoring chances to learn from elders—turning history into a human story about regret, gratitude, and responsibility.

This conversation is a love letter to the craft and a blueprint for the future. We talk about translating old-world standards into modern expectations: ethical sourcing, precision settings, transparent education, and repairs that treat heirlooms as living archives. If you care about heritage, Detroit history, the Roaring Twenties, and how a small bench can become a century of a family of jewelers, you’ll feel right at home here. Subscribe, share with a friend who loves a good origin story, and leave a review with the tradition you hope to carry forward.