All things white and shaggy – and other unexpected gifts

I must have had a propensity for all things white and shaggy as a girl. When I was twelve, all the girls at school who I thought mattered had white shaggy pullover sweaters. I was so mad that my mother wouldn’t let me get one. Then the longed-for sweater showed up on a holiday when a kid didn’t expect a gift at all – Valentine’s Day!

With it was a Scandinavian wooden heart you could hang up by its red satin ribbon. I loved that little heart, but loved my new sweater more.

We girls wore the sweaters over our cotton dresses. I guess it was a fad of our own creation – perhaps something we came up with that we knew all our moms would think was ridiculous (isn’t that what one does at age twelve?)

Another time, I really wanted a white shag throw rug for my bedroom, mainly because a friend whom I considered cool had one. Mom laughed and said no to a white rug for anyone’s room. “How impractical,” she said. 

Lo and behold, one day I came home from school and found not one but two deep-pile white rugs in my room. How cushy they felt in the mornings under bare feet! To say nothing of how cool I now was (at least in my own mind). A pink bedroom with mahogany furniture, and now this. I was blessed.

The third white shaggy thing turned out to be a cat. This kitten appeared one spring day, and I didn’t even remember begging for one. I guess Mom knew I had been fascinated with the cats (better known as mousers) who lived in and around our barn. Those cats were nice, but they had serious jobs to perform, so to have a cat around just for fun was new to me.

She had seen an ad in the newspaper and talked Dad into picking up this kitty. It came from a family with preschoolers who did not understand how to treat a pet. This gift was astounding since my mother had often made it clear that a house was no place for an animal. Yet here was this green-eyed purr-box, and she was actually going to live in our house.

I named her Snooky, and she and I played for hours with yarn on the living room floor, but when I tried to pick her up to cuddle, she would have none of it. Because of being so annoyed by toddlers before coming to us, it took a multitude of scratches on my arms and hands before she trusted me and became a cherished companion.

Okay, enough on white things, for they were not the only happy childhood surprises. One Christmas season, I saw the Lennon Sisters Christmas album in the store and pleaded for it. “No,” Mom said flatly. “We already have those same songs on other records.” Sad me. I had those singers on a pedestal, especially Janet who was my age and the youngest of the four. I even had the Lennon Sisters paper dolls: Diane, Peggy, Kathy and Janet.

Christmas Eve rolled around and when I unwrapped my presents, there it was. Mom had gone back and got it for me behind my back. Such joy. Side note: About a dozen years ago, my husband and I moved to Branson and attended the Andy Williams Christmas Show. Three of the sisters performed that evening. I bought that same album in CD form and had it signed by my girlhood idols, and was excited to meet them even after all those decades.

How about the birthday when I awoke to the buzzing of a pink alarm clock I didn’t know I had? She had set it and snuck in after I had gone to sleep – and it matched my room. Several years later I awoke to a song on a clock radio I also didn’t know I had – again, on my birthday. That thing woke me up for high school, then for college classes, and then for work for many years. I’m grateful for a mother who enjoyed astonishing her little girl. Whether the surprises were white and shaggy or not.

You may be wondering what’s the point of this somewhat rambling column. I don’t have one; it’s just fun memories. However – now that I think about it – perhaps it could inspire you to delight someone with an unexpected gift.

Just better not make it a cat.