| There’s always been a lot of friendly rib punching between my father and my husband, David. When their favorite football teams play each other the phones at both houses are ringing incessantly as they jab and jive each other during a rival game. Last year, the rivalry stepped outside the football field as the two men challenged each other to a weight loss contest after Christmas. They even put a little money on the table to seal the bet as to which one could lose the most weight in 90 days. But after a couple of weeks, you could tell the guys were commiserating more than congratulating each other. That’s when my husband had a great idea. David called my father and said, “I’m sending you something to help with your weight loss.” My dad was impressed with the kindness. “But the package is so big,” David continued, “I’m going to have to ship it to you on a plane.” He gave Dad the flight number and time to meet the airplane and continued to build up the concept of the gift. My father was getting excited. As my mother confided, Dad was certain David was sending him some big piece of workout equipment to help in the quest to lose weight. The next morning my dad waited impatiently for the 50-pound package to be unloaded from the airplane. He struggled to haul it to his pickup and spent the 45-minute drive home chattering to my mother about what might be inside the package. He turned into his driveway squealing rubber and hanging out the window, calling the neighbors to come see what his son-in-law sent. As Dad’s knife ripped through the cardboard the neighborly crowd was already gathering. When the box top opened and the tissue on top was tossed away the neighbors gasped in surprise. (My Dad nearly choked on his double-over guffaw.) What was inside the box? Not the shiny metal workout machine my Dad had envisioned. Not a set of motivational tapes or even a new bathroom scale. Oh no . . . inside the box was a 50-pound gift basket filled with cookies, candies, chips, nuts, and every favorite snack my husband knew my father liked. The note attached was simple: “You know how I hate to lose a bet. Eat! Eat! Eat!” The two men have never forgotten the giggles and chuckles they enjoyed from that gift basket. My Dad still laughs about it and tells the story often to anyone who hasn’t already heard it. As they’ll both tell you, THAT’s the kind of gift basket a man really loves: the old-fashioned kind that tells a story, delivers cherished treats, and creates a memory. Don’t forget this little cookie of a story. It could be worth a million dollars . . . or at least one really good sale. |
