My fingers couldn’t break through the gold-wired ribbon fast enough. Once off, I tore into the wrapping holding my second Valentine’s Day present as Mrs. Rudan.

“No jewelry here,” those pesky little voices in my head sang. “This package has heft.”

No matter, I thought to myself still in newlywed stupor. Didn’t I get those beautiful little gold earrings last Valentine’s Day? Hadn’t my beloved actually gone back to that little jewelry store, after the pizza dinner when we window shopped on the way back to our car where I first saw and mentioned I loved them? After that Valentine’s Day, I was sure I had married a prince among men. He had paid attention. Remembering I admired them and then making a special effort to surprise me with them.

Good grief, how I cherished those earrings. Not because they were the fanciest or most costly that I had even owned at that time. What made those gold earrings so special, so meaningful to me-- was that, he--my husband, had been so thoughtful.

I could only imagine what this boot-box sized present held. “Well, it’s certainly not a bracelet or necklace to match those beloved earrings you keep crowing about now is it”-- came those wicked, little voices again.

Once the final piece of Scotch tape holding the wrapping gave way, I saw the top of the box. It was a deluxe 40 channel CB.

“Told ya it wasn’t jewelry.” Oh silly voices, I thought-- my present must be inside the box. That’s the ticket; look inside the box; that’s where you’ll find your real present.

Now mind you this whole time my beloved has this Cookie Monster ear-to-ear grin on his face. And being a quiet kind of guy, he’s not the type to ask a lot of questions – not like me who asks if you like “it” after the bow is knocked loose.

He sat there smiling – really, really broadly now, as I excitedly opened the CB box. Years later he told me he thought – gee, she really must like this present if she can hardly wait to get it out of the box and see it up close.

Imagine my surprise when I popped open the CB box and out slid a … CB!!

A CB? – “Prince Charming bought you a CB??” mocked the chorus of voices in my head.

A CB, --a C--freakin’ B????? I echoed the voices- still not uttering one intelligible word out loud. The deer in the headlights look taking over my entire face as it sank in that my VALENTINE’S DAY gift was a CB! “40 channels, huh?” was all I managed to blurt.

“Yes,” said my beloved who took his cue and launched into a monologue touting the myriad virtues of the “thing” in my lap. I don’t think he could describe his left foot to someone as accurately as he extolled the wonders of that CB. A thing – I hadn’t realized until just that moment how little I cared to know about.

I think I tuned out after he explained to me that I would now have to choose a “handle.” God forgive me for even still knowing, let alone explaining what a handle is. My name was no longer valid in the world of truckers and avid CBers. Everyone had a “handle” back in the day that they identified themselves by as they were tooling down the road. You know, as you sped past the 18 wheeler on the highway to heaven you signaled them by saying “Hey, big boy, this is lonesome dove--over.” Or  “Hi! This is goo-goo eyes--10 four.” OH MY Goodness!

I just learned how to TEXT in 2011, can you even imagine what I felt like trying to speak into a CB??