When you hit a certain age, you don't need more stuff. Except a Ferrari, but I didn't expect a Secret Santa to cough up a sports car. So, I asked my Santa to make a donation to a worthy cause they cared about instead. And my Santa, we'll call him KH, just ripped it.

KH (that's him in the striped sweater) was the sole caretaker of his grandfather for the last four years of his life. His grandfather, a WWII veteran and Alzheimer's sufferer, is that natty fellow in the uniform hat. He was a pretty doggone good looking gentleman, too. Passed that on to his grandson. (Hey, I'm married, not blind.)

KH sent me a half a dozen wonderful photos of himself and his grandfather. There was a lot of love there. A lot of encouragement. And frankly? KH deserves about every kind of honor. At 22, he dropped everything, moved half a continent away, and took care of that brilliant man who had no idea who he was any more.

Thank you, Santa, for sharing your story with me. Thank you for sharing Glenn's story, too, even if it was the last part of the book.

KH made a donation to the Alzheimer's Association of America in his grandfather's name for my holiday gift. (And I've matched it, KH...let me know if you want the tracking number. It's also in Glenn's name.)