In 1970 my mother, Amelia Wright, toured the Holy Land. As was her custom, she purchased a variety of souvenirs to bring back to her home in Hollywood, Calif, to mail to her grandkids in Montana. Among the items were a miniature wood covered Bible and small clay jars that represented the type of vessel in which the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered in a cave in 1947.

But at Christmas time in 1970, she sent a package of three gifts for our three oldest kids, ages 13, 11 and 9. After the packages were unwrapped, with puzzled looks on all of our faces, we asked almost in unison, “What are they?”

Attached to each item was a small patch of burlap at the end of a cord or heavy string. After a half-hour of guessing what the items were, the kids came to the conclusion that they were nose warmers. After all, this was during the time that western Montana still enjoyed – or complained about – cold, snowy winters.

So the kids tried ‘em on, tied the cords in back. Not only did they look goofy, but the things smelled bad, too.

Soon the telephone rang – it was Grandma calling to wish us a Merry Christmas and she wondered if the box of presents had arrived in time. It had, and I told her the kids thanked her for the nose warmers.

After a lengthy silence on other end of the line, Grandma asked “Nose warmers? What nose warmers?”

“Yeah, those cords with the burlap patch attached.”

“Oof,” she exclaimed. “Those aren’t nose warmers. They’re old type sling shots that I brought back from my Holy Land trip!”

After a few more minutes of almost non-stop laughter on both ends of the line, Grandma wished everyone a Merry Christmas and “warm noses.”

A while later, as the kids were discussing what to do with the sling shots.  I hinted jokingly, “Maybe we can use some marbles and go target shooting.”

Mom promptly said, “Don’t even think about it.”

Later that day, the sling shots mysteriously disappeared. Must’ve been lost in the scrap gift-wrap and empty boxes that were thrown away.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.