"A Christmas Surprise" Bonus Content

My parents were married in 1947. They took advantage of the GI Bill to build a new house—their first one. A few years later, they built a bigger one, then a third even bigger one. Mama loved new houses. My parents worked hard for everything they had. They were the embodiment of Postwar America, and I was their Boomer child.

The year they were married, DeBeers, the diamond company, started one of the most successful ad campaigns ever with the slogan A Diamond Is Forever. Diamond engagement rings became de rigeuer.

Mama did love diamonds, too. Her hands were always tastefully decorated with perfect settings for her small hands. She never wore costume jewelry or earrings. She rarely wore bracelets or necklaces. She wore rings—a wedding ring on her left hand and another diamond ring on her right hand, a gift from Daddy.

A diamond may be forever, but a marriage is not.

After 23 years of marriage, my parents divorced. Their love was never in question—not the love they had for each other and certainly not the love they had for me. Life got in the way of their marriage, but nothing ever got in the way of the devotion the three of us shared for each other.

Mama had the diamonds from her wedding ring reset in a unique design representing a crescent moon and a shooting star. She wore it every day, along with another beautiful ring she bought for herself. It had baguette diamonds undulating around a clear, beautiful center stone like a tutu on a ballerina.

When I was a baby, my parents bought me a little gold ring with a microscopic diamond in the center. I bit the ring, the diamond popped out and I swallowed it. When I was a toddler, I had my first turquoise and silver jewelry—a tiny bracelet and matching ring with three stones set side-by-side. And of course, the birthstone ring I got for Christmas, as in the story. Then when I was about ten, I got another diamond ring, three tiny stones set side-by-side. I adored it and wore it every day.

For my 30th birthday, my mother gave me a very special gift—a diamond ring. It was special not for the precious stones but for the precious family memories it held. It was the ring Daddy had given her the Christmas they decided not to buy each other gifts. A Christmas Surprise includes this kernel of truth about the presents. We’d just moved into a new custom-built home, and their budget was stretched. Both of them broke their promise not to buy each other a gift, and the broken promises were the sweetest part.

So for my 30th birthday, Mama gave me the diamond ring Daddy had broken his promise to buy her, and I wear it to this day.

I have quite a lot of jewelry, but I don’t wear a lot of it. I always wear a necklace with a pendant made from a portrait of our precious little terrier, June, along with Rusty’s name in gold. I wear earrings with special charms. I wear the beautiful diamond wedding ring my husband gave me.

And I always wear the ring my father gave my mother that Christmas. A reminder that the three of us will go on forever.

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Our Christmas was different this year. It’s the second Christmas without my mother. I think that will make every Christmas different for the rest of my life. I miss her enjoyment of Christmas, which was greater even than my own.

The second reason this Christmas was different was that my husband and I are very busy—overwhelmed, in fact—with a project. The project is Corvairs and Horny Toads, and as fulfilling and gratifying as it is, it is time- and energy-consuming, and this Christmas it took priority over decorating and celebrating and pretty much everything except eating what we shouldn’t.

Christmas was almost an afterthought, like it was almost an afterthought for Ike and Jerry Dale Gibson with their own huge project—their new house.

This year, Alan and I had a “no presents rule”—like that year for Ike, Jerry Dale and Priscilla, even though they broke it. For me and Alan, our special gift to each other this year is collaborating on something very special to us both—making Corvairs and Horny Toads and sharing it with you.

Alan moves mountains to give me feedback about the stories, to direct my performance, to produce and engineer the podcast. And I have put my heart and my memories of home and family into writing and performing the stories. Receiving such wonderful comments and appreciation from you is The Gift of this holiday season for us.

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts. We hope your holidays were special, filled with family and love.

P.S. Rusty, our baby dog, had a fine Christmas with gifts and goodies. He did wonder a bit about the tree. I don’t know for sure if he was able to talk at midnight on Christmas Eve. What about your dog or cat? Did they talk to you at midnight on Christmas Eve?