The first home Sherry and I purchased was a tiny one. It sat on a dusty lot. It was all we could afford, and we loved every square foot. On Sundays, we took off to the desert in our 1971 Oldsmobile Delta 88 (purchased for $200) to search for stupendous boulders to decorate our yard. Among hundreds of rocks we retrieved, four were special. Each one weighed at least 100 pounds, and it took all our might to hoist them up and into the trunk of our Olds.
We placed them in prominent spots around our house. On tough days, we would pat our colorful boulders for luck before heading off to work.
Twenty-five years and several homes later, I remembered the four big boulders and went back to our old house to see if I could purchase them as a surprise gift for Sherry’s 70th birthday.
The owner of the house must have sensed the sentimental value I placed on the four rocks and knew a sucker had just rung his doorbell. His price was $250 per boulder.
Later that day, when Sherry walked up our driveway and spotted our four favorite boulders, she giggled wildly and then teared up with joy as she patted each one of her old buddies.
Pound for pound, it was the best thousand bucks I ever spent.